


The Adventures of Chris Perry and His (Little) Big Brother

by KokoroJunnayai



Category: Charmed
Genre: And angst, Baby Wyatt is adorable, But mostly lots of love, Chris Perry has some issues, Gen, lots of fluff, some drama
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-01
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-01-17 20:44:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 20,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1401844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KokoroJunnayai/pseuds/KokoroJunnayai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which baby!Wyatt is adorable, Chris Perry is neurotic, and together they have wacky adventures.</p><p> Gen. Set in Season Six-ish.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Best Friends

In another life, where he had a family that wasn't either dead, dying, or homicidal, and he was one of those (semi) normal twenty-something college kids, Chris supposed he should've been embarrassed to have his baby brother with him. Of course, any humiliation he might have felt was dwarfed by the off putting, crazy weirdness that was his _big_ brother being nearly two decades _younger_  than him.

Sometimes he looked down at the toddler that was his older sibling and just sort of freaked out.

Yes, alcohol was definitely a must in his line of work.

Chris sighed, and let the urge to run a hand through his hair overpower him.

"I guess Mom doesn't care that this could, potentially, scar me for life, Wyatt." He told the child. "Well, not that I don't already have a surplus of issues – I just don't need anymore."

The boy gurgled at him, which wasn't particularly helpful, although it was both entertaining and adorable. It was impossible to connect the tiny, blond, cute-beyond-all-reason-and-what-the-hell-isn't-Chris-supposed-to-be-manly-and-not-consider-things-'cute' baby boy with the monster the time traveler escaped in the future.

It was impossible _until_ Chris noted the deep shade of blue in those crinkled eyes, lit up with joy the same way his Wyatt's did when killing someone Chris loved. Or how that petulant frown snuck over his features, hinting at a darker trouble should things not go his way – and while on a child it's nothing, hardly rare beyond measure, in the adult Wyatt it was terrifying with _very_  good reason.

Whenever Chris spotted these little things, glimpsed a mannerism that was just so _his brother_  that it nearly caused him physical pain, his expression darkened and he turned from the child.

And now he was tasked with keeping his gaze on him for a great deal of time, and Chris wasn't sure what to do.

"You know what you did, the last time we saw each other?" He asked, knowing he wouldn't answer - glad of it, almost. He still tried to make his tone light.

The boy only cocked his head and squished his bear tighter to him. It was so...innocent. It was a sharp sting on the sullied, black image of the Twice Blessed resting on Chris's heart.

Chris focused on keeping any emotion from his voice when he continued, just as he'd been taught by his brother and his brother's world.

"You tried to kill me, you know."

A shaky smile couldn't cover up the betrayal crawling beneath his skin, and the guilt overlaying it because the child had yet to commit any grievance against him. Good thing this boy wasn't Phoebe, or Paige, or Piper – while they would notice, _he_ wouldn't.

"Well, not _you_  you." He amended guiltily. Those baby blues were too sweet, too intense to be ignored and it almost seemed like blasphemy to speak of the kid that way. "That's the you I'm trying to prevent."

It was very nice to speak of this aloud, to not concern himself with the consequences, or have to attempt to stuff all his psychoses away in a box so that his family didn't drive him insane. He loved them enough to endure any pain for them, but he didn't know how to live with them. Or how to talk with them. Or how to let them take care of him.

They'd been dead far too long for him to consider opening himself up to someone other than Bianca, except now she was gone too.

"You know, we used to be close. For brothers, that is. When we were younger we used to play pranks on our cousins, mess with spells and potions, and find all sorts of magical creatures, and – and we even caught a genie, once. Together! Like it was a fish or something, right on our fishing pole." He cracked a smile.

"We each got one wish, and then we had to split the last one. Oh, it was awful. We were cleaning the house for months to get the stains out, and Mom got _so mad_..." His small laugh ended as quickly as it came.

In curiosity, he glanced at the boy's face; rather than finding something more interesting to do, he sat there listening still, blinking in confusion at him. It was as though he knew there was a weight to the words he couldn't possibly comprehend. Or perhaps he merely enjoyed the tone of Chris's voice.

"We were...best friends, I guess. But there was always something inside you, Wyatt...something evil. And I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, but I didn't see it until too late, and I couldn't stop it and..."

It was all the time traveler could do to swallow, blink back long overdue tears, and breathe in deep as though attempting to suck all the words back into his mouth, and press the door shut on his pain of his brother's turn to darkness.

"It's why I'm here now." The next smile was watery, false, and it felt like he was breaking inside. "I'm trying to fix it. Maybe it's not fair, maybe it's not right to want my best friend back, not after everything he's done...all the people he's killed...

"There are many people who deserve to get revenge, Wyatt." He addressed the child seriously. He meant it – he really, truly did. "They need justice for everything he's ripped away from them, they have _earned_ that, but I can't...I'm just...I'm way too selfish for that."

He blew out a sigh.

"I know I promised that I'd kill you, Wy, if I couldn't save you – but I guess that was a lie, huh? I don't think I could kill you if you let me. Like you always said...I-I'm...weak."

"Oh, Chris."

He whirled around, his heart pounding in his ribcage and something deep in him shattering.

There was no waiting for Piper's explanation to eavesdropping, or listening numbly as she whispered sweet lies into his ear, things like everything was going to be okay (it was never going to be okay, because she was dead) because as soon as he saw her tears at his story, he orbed away.

Perhaps he'd always been sort of a coward when it had come to confronting his problems. Most likely he would've infuriated many, many shrinks had he had the opportunity.

Still, he told himself, he didn't come here for their acceptance or for mental help or any of the many others things they wanted. Any of the many things they were offering...

And at first it had seemed like a great defense for his cowardice. But...now it felt like that old excuse was wearing a bit thin.

Oh well. If that one didn't work, there was always that 'future consequences' thing.

  
  



	2. Hats

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is set before Best Friends. Comes from the odd and possibly (?) hilarious prompt 'Hats'.

"You know Wy, this stopped being funny an hour ago." Chris deadpanned underneath his brand new hat.  
  
After the sisters had located and vanquished a nest of demons who had hidden out in a thrift store, they'd brought back a few things. Chris had inquired about the ethical ramifications of taking stuff from a store where demons had killed the owners, but they didn't listen to him. They never did. Then again, it was just a thrift store...  
  
Regardless, one of the things they had erm, 'recovered', was a hat. Neither of his aunts nor his mother wore hats, so he wasn't sure why they'd picked it up. And of all the different types of head-gear that they could've chosen, it didn't have to be a freakin' Stetson.  
  
Come _on_ , did they think they were going to run into a cowboy soon, or something? And why did they feel the need to put it on _his_ head?  
  
Somedays, Chris had to wonder about the sanity of his family. But he wasn't the most mentally sound individual either so...  
  
For the umpteenth time that hour, Chris reached up and threw the hat up in the air, using his powers to TK it as far away as he could.  
  
"I don't wanna wear a Stetson, Wy." He told the child. Wyatt only giggled as he clutched his teddy in the playpen. With a sigh, he realized his sibling thought this was a fun game, and was probably not going to stop anytime soon.  
  
Sure enough, blue lights soon appeared around his crown and the cowboy hat returned to rest on Chris's brown head.  
  
Irritably, he noticed that it was crooked this time. That was just adding insult to injury. Er, figuratively speaking.  
  
Again, he yanked it off and, with a few flicks of his hand, opened the front door from across the hall and sent his Stetson flying through it.  
  
"I'm not a cowboy, I don't need a hat, and I'm really supposed to be working on who turns you evil, Wy." He explained, slowly losing his calm. His annoyance made him overlook his slip of the tongue – he hadn't called his brother 'Wy' since they were children. Well, _one_ of them was a child...  
  
A stupid, childish, freakin' _hat loving_ child!  
  
In an echo of giggles, Wyatt orbed the hat back to his brother's head.  
  
"Cwrissy!" He laughed. "Cwrissy!"  
  
Chris squinted at him from underneath his beautiful black hat.  
  
"When did you learn my name?" When Wyatt let out another cute giggle, Chris added,  
  
"Don't think because you're adorable that you'll get away with this. Two years old or not, I will have my revenge."  
  
"Did I just hear you threaten a toddler, Chris?" Came his mother's voice as she walked into the room.  
  
Chris opened his mouth to deny doing any such thing, when her eyes began to travel up, up, up, and she saw what was on his head...  
  
Oh no. This was just _perfect_.  
  
"You're...still...hm...wearing that?" She asked, struggling not to laugh. The male gave a faint growl and crossed his arms over his chest.  
  
"Not willingly."  
  
At her amused yet questioning look, he swiped the hat from his cranium and tossed it away like a Frisbee.  
  
"Just watch." He said, and no sooner had the words left his mouth than Wyatt orbed the item back to his brother.  
  
Chris sighed and drooped under the weight of the hat.  
  
"I hate my life."  
  
"It's not that bad, Chris.." Piper tried to console him, failing miserably as she abruptly burst into giggles.  
  
"Sure...not _that_ bad..." He muttered sarcastically, tugging the edge of the stetson down to cover his eyes and his shame.  
  
Maybe it was a _tad_ hilarious, he grudgingly conceded as he listened to mother and son laugh at him, but that didn't mean he had to laugh _with_ them. This was yet another incident related to his past-family that he would be forced to repress...he would just add it to the list, then.  
  
Suddenly, a horrible thought occurred to him and he jerked the hat off, glaring at his mother.  
  
"I swear, if you try to take a picture at me like this –"  
  
"What? You'll shoot me...partner?" Piper chuckled, wiping away a humorous tear. It didn't particularly help to make him look serious when his little brother orbed the stupid thing back. Still, Chris attempted a note of severity - between his almost-anger and definite embarrassment.  
  
"Not. Funny. _Seriously_."  
  
Piper shook her head, moving to stand by Wyatt so she could ruffle his little curls and press a kiss to his forehead.  
  
"Good job, Wyatt. You made mommy's day." She grinned down at him.  
  
While of course he didn't really understand her, Wyatt seemed to appreciated the positive feelings he got from his mother, and returned her smile with his adorable one.  
  
That gave Chris an idea.  
  
In a fit of brilliance, Chris decided to put the cowboy hat actually _somewhere_ rather than simply tossing it away – and he chose to place it on his brother.  
  
It was way too big, obviously, for the small child. Yet as the Twice Blessed one struggled to lift it and stare in amazement at the thing, Chris realized that his idea had worked.  
  
Wyatt wasn't orbing it onto his head anymore. No, now he was fascinated with it, and was curling his little pudgy fingers around it with awe.  
  
"There." Chris said smugly. "That did it, thank _God_."  
  
Piper pouted, even if she had to admit that her baby boy was super adorable with a hat that was two-thirds the size he was.  
  
"Awww... but you were so cute, Chris..." She groaned.  
  
He smirked back.  
  
"Sucks to be you, Mom. Sucks to be you."  
  
Her heart skipped a beat as it dawned on her - neurotic, grumpy, didn't-come-to-the-future-for-fun Chris was _teasing her_. A delicate, pleasant warmth bloomed in her chest, easing the dark cloud of worry she always retained for her boy.  
  
Her mirth long faded away, she glanced from one son to the other. With the distraction of his newly acquired accessory, Piper hadn't noticed that he was working with the Book in the lounge rather than the attic. She had been in the Manor, there was no need for him to watch Wyatt so...  
  
What was he doing with the baby?  
  
"What were you doing in here anyway? If you didn't want Wyatt to bother you, you could've gone to the attic." She pointed out, curiosity lacing her tone.  
  
Something unreadable shadowed her future son's face.  
  
"I was...never mind."  
  
Piper cocked her head to the side as she reached down to hold her blond toddler. He clung to her easily and cooed like the cutest baby in the world he was, but most of her attention was focused on her other boy.  
  
Why was he spending time with Wyatt? Didn't he...not really _like_ his brother? But that was a silly thought, she chided herself, since the guy had traveled back in time specifically _for_ Wyatt, and you didn't do that for just anyone. Even though Chris said that his Wyatt was a monster, he didn't appear to hate the two-year-old Wyatt.  
  
If anything, she thought that maybe...Chris was bonding with him?  
  
When the Time traveler made to leave, she called out, unsure,  
  
"Chris? Would...would you like to hold him?"  
  
He stopped, half-turning, and he was so surprised by the question he let his utter bewilderment show. It made Piper want to start laughing again, such a funny expression on such a (usually) guarded face, but she controlled herself. Barely.  
  
She beckoned him over with her free hand, testing out a supportive smile.  
  
"I-I don't...I'm not..." He looked up at her. "You do realize how weird this is for me, right? That you want me to hold my big brother?"  
  
Although Piper attempted to wrap her mind around that, although she knew it to be true, she could only picture the baby in her arms – not someone big or tall or full-grown, like Chris. Wyatt was (and always would be) her little guy, and thinking about him as an adult was as dizzying as it probably was for Chris to look at him as a two-year-old.  
  
"Okay, yeah, that is mind blowing a bit." Piper agreed. She absently noted the blond playing with her necklace. "But he doesn't know any of that. He's just a baby and I think you'll find he's very adorable."  
  
It was easy to see the war going on in Chris's head, emotions flickering across the face, and she was proud to see that under her child's blue stare, he was caving.  
  
"I don't...I've never really..." He paused, searching for the right words. "I was never around babies much. In the future."  
  
The words he picked out were carefully chosen and almost rehearsed, but Piper was excited that he'd shared something about his life with her. She tried not to sound too thrilled about this.  
  
"Well, I'm not asking you to raise him, Chris – just hold him. You did come here to save _him_ , didn't you? Maybe you should see what you're saving."  
  
Through their conversation, Piper had meandered closer and closer, until she was right next to him and gently placing Wyatt in his arms. The Twice Blessed one gurgled and eagerly reached out for his big little brother.  
  
Chris kinda froze up at first, his hands placed lightly on the blond boy like the kid was made of porcelain.  
  
But slowly, as the baby laughed and waved his arms about, Piper was happy to see a serene smile grow on her neurotic whitelighter's face. She could count the number of times she'd seen him smile on one hand.  
  
That, of course, was going to have to change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This was supposed to be funny, where did the funny go?
> 
> Also, if you didn't catch on, this was supposed to be Chris's way of spending time with his non-evil bro. Unfortunately, Wyatt often has other ideas.
> 
> And I don't know how to end things, but I gave it my best shot. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! :)


	3. Special Occasions (part 1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so apparently I'm back to angsty chapters. This was supposed to be a lighthearted fic, but oh well...  
> Sorry about the wait. 
> 
> Umm... minor warning for a little drinking in this one. 
> 
> ALSO! Not exactly Wyatt in this one, but it's gonna have two (?) parts, maybe..so...he'll be in the next one.
> 
> Disclaimer - I own very little and I certainly don't own Charmed

On her way to finish closing the club, Piper stopped to push open the door of her back room hesitantly, the clink and crunch of something metallic and aluminum beckoning her onwards. The club was closed, it's occupants long gone, so it could only be...

"Chris."

He blinked. It took him a moment, either because of her surprised and saddened tone or what looked like a great quantity of alcohol running through his system – finally, strenuously, he turned to face her from his spot on the ground.

Long, messy brown locks fell into a pair of unfocused, red-rimmed eyes. His mouth was set in a deep frown, one end quivering with emotion.

There was a half-druken can of beer in his hands that he continued to slosh around and a mass of more cans scattered about him on the floor.

Never before had she seen her neurotic whitelighter so unfocused and sad and...kinda pathetic.

"Chris...what _happened_?" She asked, walking over to kneel by his side.

When he didn't answer right away, she assumed he hadn't heard her and put a gentle had on his shoulder, which he flinched at and stubbornly kept his head turned to the side. Ah. It seemed he knew she was there, knew she was very, extremely _worried_ about him, but didn't want to acknowledge her.

Eventually though, he began to speak.

"Hnn...life." He slurred. "Life happ'nd.., Pip'r."

The green orbs she'd always considered too sharp, too focused and single minded and filled with no fun at all – those same green eyes met hers in a wobbly, blurred gaze that barely lasted a moment.

"Life made you drink all this beer." She stated dryly. "Just 'life'?"

He snorted, maybe self-deprecatingly.

" _My_ life." He clarified and then titled the can back. The action stung at her heart, at the already open wound that was her new old son, Chris, and his many many secrets. She loved him dearly – _of course_ she did – but somehow that had a way of making things worse.

Suddenly an odd thought struck her – nearly as hard as a blow.

"Are you even old enough to drink?" She queried. Shouldn't she know that already?

"Wyatt didna' care. He made a whole bunch'a stupid rules...ruler of the worl' and stuff... but he didna' care about al...cohol." He retorted, which she noticed wasn't really an answer at all.

With a sigh, she ran a hand through her hair and glared up at him. Of course _her_ son wasn't going to be easy to deal with – he had to be difficult. The female didn't bother questioning him about where he'd _gotten_ all the alcohol, as that pursuit probably wouldn't be any more fruitfull than this one.

"Okay, Chris. I think you've had enough now. Hand over the rest of it." She held out a hand faux-patiently.

He looked to the hand, then his eyes swerved to her face. She let him get a good long look and see the seriousness written there. Because at this point of the night she was tired, she was annoyed, and she was really, really concerned and in no mood for this – whatever _this_ was.

When he hesitated a moment longer, his fingers curling protectively around the substance, she growled,

" _Christopher_..."

He swiftly abandoned it.

"Thank you."

"Mmmm..." He mumbled. Now that he didn't have the beer, he seemed more listless and exhausted, more...

She'd say _sad_ if she didn't think that was a woefully underwhelming word. World-weary, maybe?

No. Whatever the emotion was it appeared as more of a dull, numbing ache in his flat hazel orbs.

Carefully, the mother sat the beer down, out of her son's reach, and settled into a spot against the wall next to him.

"Chris...talk to me." She begged. Piper Halliwell didn't beg – not unless she had gone to the end of the world and back and hadn't found what she was looking for. What was she searching for now? She guessed she'd know when she found it.

Almost without meaning to, Chris slowly rested his head on her shoulder. But he didn't seem to take comfort in it, like he didn't really think she was there.

"What's...to talk 'bout?" He muttered, shifting uncomfortably.

"Well, we could talk about the weather, or Paige's new temp job..or, I don't know, whatever's on your mind?!"

Chris 'hmm'ed again. His hands tugged nervously at one another, nearly without his permission she thought.

"...Can I go wit' the weather?" He asked hopefully. For a second she thought he had impossibly missed the sarcasm in her voice, then rolled her eyes.

"No."

"Mm sorry..."

"No, it's...it's okay, Chris. Please, just talk to me." She pressed her cheek against his head and felt him shudder. And that hurt. She moved back deliberately, letting him be.

"No..." He whispered. "Mm sorry I couldna' save you."

Then his shadowed, burdened eyes slipped closed, his head went limp, and she heard faint snores already escaping his mouth. He had fallen asleep. Within _seconds_.

He must've been exhausted before he started drinking, she realized, swallowing some thick emotion back.

With a trembling hand, she smoothed back a few strands of hair and carefully, quietly, pressed a kiss to his head.

"What am I gonna do with you?" She wondered aloud. She brushed something out of her eye and sighed, impatiently but softly (so as not to wake him), and just sat there for a moment.

Finally, she said,

"Paige? Paige, I need you."

Nothing.

"Paige, I know you can hear me so get your butt down here. I don't care if you're sleeping. It's Chris." She tried to sound low yet intimidating, and was rewarded with shimmering, musical blue lights filling the room.

Chris shifted a little at the sound of the orbing. When Paige materialized all the way, Piper hissed,

"Couldn't you orb quieter?"

Standing there in a rumbled t-shirt and pajama shorts, her hair bushy around her scowled face, Paige looked like she'd orbed from bed and was _not_ happy about it – at Piper's words she propped her hands on her hips and turned to glare at her sister.

"No, I can't 'orb quieter'!" She snapped, a tad too loudly in Piper's opinion. "I was sleeping! What's so important that it couldn't wait until..."

Her voice trailed off; she'd caught sight of who was leaning on Piper's shoulder.

Instantly her irritation changed to serious worry.

"What happened?"

Raising an eyebrow, Piper gestured to the empty cans surrounding him quite obviously.

"What do you _think_ happened?" She asked. Softly.

Heaving a very familiar, very beleaguered sigh the witch-lighter made her way across the room to kneel beside her nephew and frown at him concerned-like.

"Don't get snappy with me, _I_ just woke up. If anybody gets to be grumpy it should be me." She said. Her tone was absentminded, though – she was too preoccupied to be irritated. The brunette lifted a hand as if to touch the sleeping male, hesitated – as though she might hurt him – then eventually just dropped her arm back to her side.

The two sisters locked eyes and shared their concern and love and worry about Chris without words.

With one arm wrapped around her son, Piper's other hand drifted to her stomach, where she felt a flutter of movement.

"We need to bring him home, Paige." Was all she said.

Paige blew out a sigh.

"Yeah. I guess we do." She swiped at her messy hair, frowning. "Why didn't we do this earlier?"

"What, orb his unconscious body into the manor after he drank himself to sleep?" Piper snarked, the same troubled frown marring her features.

Her sister rolled her eyes and heaved another sigh.

" _No_. I mean, why didn't we let him move into the manor? Yanno, right after we...found out." That was certainly an _awkward_ way of putting it, Piper thought, but she let it go.

"Because he's _incredibly_ stubborn and doesn't listen to anything we say." Piper reminded her.

As Paige opened her mouth to maybe point out where he would've gotten that trait, the other Charmed One shot her her deadliest glare and Paige snapped her jaw shut.

Blinking something (dust, probably) out of her brown eyes again, Piper rubbed at her temples, murmuring,

"He wouldn't even tell me what happened. I don't...I..how do I fix this?"

Her sister laced her finger's through the other Halliwells', partly for comfort and partly for what she was about to do. Paige gave her a small, wistful smile that was filled with as much love as sadness.

"I don't know, honey. Let's just...get him home, okay?"

With a nod from Piper, the trio soon dissolved into tiny orbs of light, and orbed home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I'm not sure exactly what sent Chris into a mini-breakdown, but seeing as he's a severely messed up kid (he's just twenty-something, not that old) with most of his family dead and his brother ruling the world and that's not even mentioning all the issues with time travel and stuff... it probably wouldn't take much.
> 
> I think it was Mother's day. Feel free to imagine it was something else, maybe Piper's birthday or something.
> 
> So...good, bad? Part two? I don't know if these guys were totally in character, and I don't really know how to write drunk people...but thanks for reading anyway!
> 
> I would love reviews!


	4. Special Occasions (part 2)

He woke up to the sound of a child laughing.

There was a pounding in his head that felt worse than if a demon had smashed it into the wall a few dozen times, and he was sure that he hadn't _actually_ swallowed any sand recently, even if his throat ached like he had.  
  
Why was everything so _loud_? The seemingly innocent giggles from the baby seemed to echo and bounce around his cranium a million times before settling into the throbbing headache growing there. An old-fashioned clock ticked somewhere nearby, each tock a stabbing pain behind his eyes.  
  
Had he accidentally drunken a senses-enhancing potion again? Had some demon infected him, broadening his hearing in some way? Or – more impossibly – had someone gotten him _drunk_?  
  
Someone's footsteps, stopping near his bed, felt like kicks to his skull. From underneath soft covers, he let out a groan. Why couldn't he just go back to sleep, away from all the clamor and... Wait, footsteps?  
  
Before his very exhausted, pain-filled head could stop him or protest, his instincts had him stumbling to his feet and trying – very poorly – to run away from the person.  
  
The world went tilty and up and down like a roller coaster inside his brain, and suddenly his stomach ached along with everything else. Fighting – or fleeing – just wasn't going to happen right now. Neither was walking, really.  
  
"Chris! Chris, honey, it's okay! It's just Mo..er, Piper. You're at the manor." Her voice, while anxious, was hushed as though she knew the condition he seemed to be in. Oh well. He was just thankful she wasn't shouting at him.  
  
Wait..  
  
"Manor?" He croaked, blinking stupidly. The room was spinning still, so he shakingly plopped himself on the bed again.  
  
Chris slowly took in the sight of Wyatt bouncing excitedly in his playpen a foot away, discovered the bed he'd just been sleeping in was Piper's, and saw that there was a basket of folded laundry by her feet.  
  
"I'm in the Manor." He repeated. The evidence _was_ very compelling.  
  
Fighting back a yawn, he asked, "What am I doing in the Manor?"  
  
His mother propped a fist on her hip and glared down at him, and it occurred to him that his headache was the least of his problems.  
  
"Do you remember what you did last night, Christopher Perry?"  
  
Even though her tone was considerately soft, the venom in it – and his middle name – made him wince. With a sigh, he rubbed at aching temples and attempted to push back some of the pain.  
  
"I-I don't...I'm not..." He breathed in deeply and winced a second time. "Oh, God, Piper, please tell me you have aspirin somewhere?  
  
While that wasn't an answer at all, he really couldn't think straight, couldn't think _at all_ with the pounding in his ears and the ache sending tremors throughout his body. Things like what happened the previous night, what he was doing sleeping in the Manor, and even Piper's anger came second to his terrible hangover.  
  
At least, in that moment it did.  
  
To his infinite relief, she pointed angrily to the nightstand next to the bed – on it, there were a couple of white pills and a glass of water.  
  
He downed both quickly, ignoring the uncomfortable rolling of his stomach, and laid back against the messed up covers.  
  
Luckily for him, that helped his head a bit. He shut his eyes and breathed, knowing that in a second, he would have to face another challenge in the form of his mother.  
  
"I guess... I drank too much?"  
  
Chris couldn't see her, but he could've sworn he _heard_ the woman roll her eyes above him.  
  
"You think?"  
  
The sarcasm twinged at his headache. By now images were starting to return to him, beginning to flow past the block of aches and pains and suddenly he saw blurry memories of beer and Piper and maybe even Paige.  
  
With a groan, he told himself, _okay, okay, just...move past this, alright? It's not like you let anything slip...did_ _you?_  
  
But he hadn't needed to. The sight of him crying and drinking like there was no tomorrow was like a failure in itself – he'd let Piper know just how broken he was.  
  
A lump of nervousness and maybe fear in his throat, he swallowed only with great difficulty.  
  
"So...why did you bring me back to the House?" He asked, hoping to shift the conversation in a different direction.  
  
"Well I wasn't going to just leave you there!" She said, her tone bewildered but somehow still ticked. "And while we're on the subject, why did you feel the need to drink yourself into oblivion last night?"  
  
He fell silent, swallowing back nausea and maybe something else. He remembered...working. He recalled reading book after book and following lead after lead, and he had been _so so tired_ that day.  
  
No sleep for a couple days, the nightmares had come back. And maybe he'd forgotten to eat, he realized, his far too-empty stomach still lurching.  
  
But what else was new? So he put saving the future of the whole freaking _world_ above taking care of himself sometimes – wasn't it worth it?  
  
Yet that didn't explain why he'd done what he had last night.  
  
Chris wasn't beneath drinking a few when things got too weird living in the past, or when he had a particularly frustrating day (those had been happening more and more lately), but he didn't like getting hammered like  _that_. It left him stupid, defenseless, and worse, talkative. He couldn't risk that here – so why had he?  
  
He squeezed his eyes shut harder, fighting back more tears as he recalled what yesterday had been, and clenched his fists on the bedspread.  
  
"I'm sorry, Piper. It was just...a bad day." He said quietly. The man so normally against admitting weakness or apologizing was doing both, and it twisted a terribly tricky emotion up in his chest.  
  
"...Whatever it was, Chris, you didn't have to be alone."  
  
Chris opened his eyes and blinked a couple hard times, trying not to meet Piper's caring gaze. That hurt too much, reminded him too much of a person he didn't, _couldn't_ have anymore.  
  
This was Piper Halliwell, but she wasn't his mother. Not yet. Sometimes he hated that she tried to be.  
  
"I'm always alone." He muttered to himself, not realizing he spoke aloud.  
  
Suddenly a warm hand landed on his arm and he jerked his gaze to find her looking down on him fiercely.  
  
"You're not alone anymore, Chris. _Never_ again, do you understand me?"  
  
There was such an insistent current to her voice that it was all he could do to nod.  
  
He was rewarded with a bright, if watery, smile, and Piper releasing his arm. The place where she'd touched it felt like fire. Definitely not comfort, or anything.  
  
"Good." She beamed. "I hope you know that you can talk to me if you need to. Always. About...anything."  
  
He wanted to mention 'future consequences' or maybe sneer something unpleasant about Bianca, so as to add some comfortable distance between them, but the words got caught in his sandpaper dry throat.  
  
Instead, he coughed, swallowed, and scooted away to face the baby Wyatt.  
  
"So..um... how's Wyatt doing?" He asked desperately.  
  
Piper seemed to know that anything more would be pushing an already bent Chris, and thankfully let that topic die to talk about her other child.  
  
"Oh, he's fine." She flapped a hand, swiping the other underneath her eyes and bending down to retrieve her laundry basket. "Still Twice Blessed, and all. He's learning a new word, I think." She added proudly.  
  
Chris's eyes were fixed on the child, but he attempted what was supposed to be a smile. It looked more like a grimace – though Wyatt didn't mind.  
  
The boy continued to giggle and fiddle with his rather fluffy stuffed animals. Whenever he bent to kiss one, it's fluff tickled his nose and he only laughed harder. It was adorable.  
  
That brought a real smile to the time traveler's hard features.  
  
"Oh, yeah. He's been doing that all morning." Piper said. "I'm surprised he hasn't gotten bored by now."  
  
Chris nodded absently, a redness still lurking underneath his dark, tired eyes.  
  
Piper bit her lip to stop herself from commenting on his obvious exhaustion. She'd already learned from experience that repetition nor hounding worked on her stubborn future son, so she knew any more of her words would be lost.  
  
But maybe she could try a different tactic.  
  
"You know, with Paige and Phoebe moved out of the Manor, there are lots of empty rooms around here." She said pointedly.  
  
Frowning a bit at the swift topic change, Chris didn't glance away from his brother even though Piper suspected he didn't really see the boy.  
  
"Mmm." Was all he said.  
  
"What with all the research and potion making, you're here most of the time anyway."  
  
"Hmm."  
  
"It's good to stay close to Wyatt, too. Keep him safe and you know...good."  
  
Finally, his emotionless green orbs twisted from his little big brother to face her, and Piper almost _missed_ seeing the pain there – _any_ emotion was better than nothing, right?  
  
"What are you trying to say, Piper?"  
  
She winced slightly at her name. She tried out a kind, persuasive smile and – dang it she was better at the glaring thing.  
  
"Would you like to move into the House, Chris?"  
  
Instantly, he stood up from the bed and despite pausing slightly to regain balance, he walked swiftly to the door. His mother's spirits fell, recognizing a certain dark look overtaking his features. Hurt and pain morphing into anger and rejection.   
  
"Piper, I did not come here to  _play family_." He all but spat. "I came here to stop him from turning evil and –"  
  
"But can't you do that better right here? Shouldn't you be as close to Wyatt as you possibly can be?" She interrupted.  
  
He stared at her for a long moment, like he knew she was right but didn't want to admit it.  
  
"I...I...I just can't." Was all he would say. Without another word, he stumbled to the hall and filled the hallway with a thousand tiny white orbs.  
  
Piper bit her lip and pretended her heart wasn't in tiny pieces in her chest. With a sigh, she strode over to her other son, who was still playing with his stuffed animals.  
  
"Hi, baby." She said softly, her eyes wet. "Can mommy have a kiss real quick?"  
  
She bent and pressed her lips against his blond curls, closing her eyes against the misery inside.  
  
"I love you, sweetie." She whispered. "I love you both so, so much. Why can't he see that?"  
  
"Eh?" Wyatt glanced up from his toys and blinked up at his mother, confused by the tears dripping down her face.  
  
"Ma? Ma...mama?" A tiny, pudgy hand reached upwards and touched her wet cheek. The boy marveled at the new feel and sight, but his nose wrinkled up too – he didn't like his mother not smiling at him.  
  
Seeing him squirm at her unhappiness, she sniffed, wiping at the rest of her tears. She reached down and petted a stuffed dog, showing it to Wyatt again as a distraction.  
  
"Look, Wyatt. Mr. Puppy wants another kiss." She tested out a smile for him. Predictably, he bent to kiss Mr. Puppy's black nose and giggled at the fluff brushing his nose. Within seconds he was lost to his game for the second time that day.  
  
Piper sighed, sitting back. She wished she could solve her other son's problems that easily.  
  
 _Maybe someday_ , she thought, her hands resting on her belly. _Maybe someday_.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soo...I'm not sure how to feel about this one. Good? Bad? Tell me what you think? If I let you down or not?
> 
> Thanks for reading! Please comment!


	5. Chris's Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chris is dying. Wy's not old enough to rescue his big little bro by himself yet, but he still helps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one probably takes place a few weeks after Special Occasions, but it can also be a stand alone chapter.
> 
> Enjoy! ^^
> 
> Warning - slight character death in this one. But he gets better :)

For some reason, Chris had expected a bigger audience for his death. Maybe it was silly to think he'd get to die surrounded by his family – after all, in his timeline, _they'd_ all perished alone. Why should he receive company or comfort when he hadn't been able to give it to them?

Still, was it too much to hope for more than just a demon?

Yes, Chris supposed, it was.

He managed a low, croak of a groan, griping his chest where the arrow had pierced it. Everything tasted like fire and pain, and Chris wished he could think past morbid, unhelpful musings.

This...wasn't how today was meant to go.

It was supposed to go something like:

Avoid Piper and the aunts (they were probably still mad about the fight), look up a few demons in The Book, make a few vanquishing potions, and run down a few leads on demons-who-could-be- _the_ -one.

'Forget to sleep' wasn't on his list of things-to-do either, but he'd squeezed it in. He'd had a few nightmares lately, nothing that a good demon hunt couldn't cure, and couldn't face unconsciousness at the moment, no matter how tired he felt.

His new weariness might've also had to do with what happened with Piper yesterday. She'd pressed about his past, like she always did, and maybe this time she'd pushed too hard – he had snapped.

He yelled at his mother and her all-too-knowing eyes and the compassion he found there, the pity that seared into him, and though he couldn't recall the words he'd said, he remembered the emotions.

They.. weren't good. Something like fury spurned by hurt and maybe some fear stirred in.

He'd shouted at his mom. His mom, who was dead but here she was _alive_ and so, so _infuriating_. And wonderful. Also, stubborn as hell; that didn't need to be said, of course.

So perhaps today had been more about getting away than any demon hunt. In that sense it had worked, Chris thought wryly.

Then the poison of the dark-lighter arrow spread a little closer to his heart and he clenched his eyes shut to block out the ache.

He wished the pain would ease up, just a tad. He wished he didn't know this hurt so well, or where the fire racing up his chest would lead him to if he wasn't healed soon.

He wished he wasn't dying on a cold, cave floor in the Underworld. But most of all, Chris Perry wished his family was here, distracting him from his demise and looking down at him with love.

Somehow he didn't feel like he'd gotten enough love back in his time, and now that he was here in theirs – where they were practically _giving_ love away – he didn't know how to deal.

Ironic, huh?

When he let out another horrible noise, black spots dancing in his vision, the demon pacing the cave hissed,

"Would you hurry up and _die,_ witch?"

Chris wanted to ask what was the rush. Was the evil creature expecting company later? A hot date, possibly?

Yet even his sarcastic wit failed him, emotion or blood or both clogging his throat.

"Wy..at..." He choked out, the taste of copper filling his mouth. It was his biggest regret, now. It was just one of his so, so many regrets, but it stood out at the moment – that he hadn't saved his brother. After everything he'd done, after everyone who had sacrificed something to get him here to the past, after all _he'd_ sacrificed to save his sibling from evil...

He really hadn't gotten very far, had he?

Of their own accord, with a vague, pounding (almost like a heartbeat) panic in the distant, Chris's eyes started to close again. No longer did his lungs work so laboriously to breathe around the arrow, nor did his heart beat furiously in rebellion against the inevitable – no, his body was shutting down now.

It was hard to remember why he cared.

Something about Wyatt...Oh, well. Surely, with what he'd told them about the future, Piper, Paige, and Phoebe could figure it out, right?

He hoped that they weren't too mad at him to do anything rash, like ignore his warnings.

With a pang that should have hurt worse in his battered, broken body, he realized that they hadn't come for him. On his deathbed, in this strange past with living relatives, not a single one had showed up to comfort him.

They hadn't even _tried..._ hadn't even _pretended_ to care if he lived or died.

But then again, it wasn't that surprising, was it?

His Leo had never come when he called, why should he now? And Aunt Paige was always healing somebody else, saving another life in another place, why should that change in this timeline? Not that it mattered, she couldn't heal yet anyway...

But even anger and sadness and grief needed too much energy to hold on too, and he had none whatsoever.

There was only pain, blood, and last breaths.

So he clung to whatever peace he'd managed to scrape together in his soul.

It wasn't much; but his time was up. He couldn't feel his chest stirring anymore, or hear his heartbeat.

This would have to do.

Chris Perry let the blackness consume him.

* * *

Steve was like most dark-lighters - he appreciated a good killing. Especially if it was the death of an insufferable whitelighter. And _particularly_ especiallyif said whitelighter's death was agonizing and drawn out.

But at a certain point the moans of pain and writhing in torment got a little repetitive, and he couldn't help but wonder when this guy was going to _die_ , already.

Come on, he'd shot him like an _hour_ ago. The poison didn't even have that far to go to reach his heart, cause Steve was a pretty good archer and had got him right in the chest. So what was taking so long?

Steve had caught the guy snooping around his lair - well actually, his warlock friends' lair, he was just borrowing it for a weekend to impress this hot banshee - and, having read the Demon Etiquette Handbook, reacted accordingly.

You know, the whole gravelly voice and asking what the Hell he was doing here, that kind of thing. He even got a few good insults in. The Dark-lighter was quite proud.

That's when things got worrisome - turned out, this random dude was a witch, er, some witch _and_ whitelighter freak, and was packing some serious potions. Like, a crazy _paranoid_ amount of them, and in all sorts of disturbing places that he didn't want to think about a witch having.

Steve really hated vanquishing potions. They were the worst way to go, worse than being exploded from the inside out, even, because they were so darn _undignified_! One tiny toss of this itty bitty bottle of goop, and you died screaming bloody murder like you were the Wicked Witch and someone had thrown a bucket of water on you.

Yes, Steve was a secret Wizard Of Oz fan. But that wasn't important.

No, what was important was that he had actually managed to avoid the witch's many potions - either due to lucky dark-orbing or terrible throwing on his enemy's part - and had finally gotten a moment to orb his crossbow to his hand.

Contrary to popular opinion, there was not really an arsenal of dark-lighter crossbows simply hanging out in subspace, waiting to be summoned. Steve had indeed thought that until a dark-lighter buddy had enlightened - er, that was a terrible word, maybe he should use en _dark_ ened? Did that make sense? - him with the truth; that each 'lighter had a bow that they created of their own power, out of dark-orbs, and could create and un-create it at will. Which was pretty neat, in his opinion, much more awesome than any _whitelighter_ power.

Er..yeah.

Anyway, he formed his weapon from dark-orbs and raised it at the intruder.

But the cool part was that Steve had practicing, you know? Nothing big, just a little target practice here in there, just in case his buddies wanted to go 'lighter hunting later that week. He'd seen this perfect shot, seen the fear in the witch's horrible green eyes and he'd just...pulled the trigger.

It was beautiful. The poison-tipped arrow flew flawlessly and pierced the witch _right_ through the ribcage. It made a dark chuckle bubble up from his throat.

Then it turned out that awesome shot or not, freaking _poisoned arrow_ or not, that witches take an excessively long time to perish. Like, _super long_. _Absurdly_ long.

Steve could've gone on his date and come back and that repulsive creature would still be twitching and groaning on the ground. What was _up_ with that? Were witch/whitelighters like, the cockroaches of the magic community? Ew. That was a nasty simile.

What would it take to move this along? He mused. That lady would not wait in the demon-bar forever.

Hmm...maybe if he asked nicely, Steve thought, tapping his steel-toed boot. He cleared his throat and lowered his voice a couple octaves - demon standard, you know.

"Would you hurry up and _die_ , witch?" He sneered, feeling very satisfied with the venom in his tone.

Truly, he was a demon to be feared.

Though death continued to elude the foul witch, it seemed it could still talk, and murmured odd things now and then. None of the mutters was a response to his legitimate query, though all of them were just disappointing. Talking only meant the wounded creature was that much farther away from the end of his very nosy, awfully prolonged life.

"Wy...why...at..." The witch croaked, which really confused Steve. What was the whitelighter trying to say? 'Why at...'? 'Why at this time, would you kill me', perhaps?

Steve thought that was a funny way to phrase it. Or maybe he was simply asking 'why', then choking on his own blood.

The dark-lighter wrinkled up a nose - that was disgusting. Those little sounds and bloody coughs? Ugh. Whiteiighters were truly sickening beings in general and he wouldn't morn being rid of one more.

If he ever _could_ be rid of this one, that was. This was getting ridiculous.

Exactly as Steve was about to go over and just shoot the guy again (though at this point, it was doubtful it would speed up the process), he saw the witch's chest still and ceased to hear those annoying whimpers of pain.

Silent. It was silent in the lair once more. No movements could be seen from the body, not even a twitch, and there was not a single noise but for Steve himself.

The witch was dead.

A cruel, delighted smirk stretched over the dark-lighter's features.

"Finally." He hissed.

At long last, he could sigh in relief and bask in the glow of his fresh kill, and he did so, feeling very smug about his abilities.

Who was 'da demon? _He_ was 'da demon.

The last thing he expected was for white-and-blue bright orbs to immediately fill the cave. Steve had to throw up a hand to cover his eyes, the orbs too brilliant for his eyes so adjusted to the dark, and accidentally stumbled back in surprise.

Oh, this was so _not_ his day, was it? How many whitelighters were gonna orb in? Was he going to kill this one, only for it to die an hour later and another whitelighter to take its place?

No, he decided, this time there would be no waiting. No enjoying of torment. He would use as many arrows as necessary to get this over with _now_. Whatever it took.

Lowering his hand, he blinked, and black eyes widened at the sight.

There was not, in fact, _one_ more whitelighter to deal with.

This one carried a child in his arms - a tiny, blond little angelic-looking thing. They both made Steve's skin crawl. No matter, he thought with a small shake of his head, it didn't affect his decision, they would both perish promptly.

He tightened his grip on the bow still in his hand, stifled a chuckle at his luck - they had orbed in with the man's back facing him - and aimed carefully.

Again, he had the perfect shot. Again, his finger touched the trigger. Just a little pull and the man would be on the ground next to his whitelighter buddy...just a tiny, little tug...

The dark-lighter fired.

That was when the world went crazy.

The baby - yeah, that's right, not the adult, the _child_ \- looked at him from over the man's shoulder and giggled.

Giggled. Gleefully.

 _Obviously_   the baby couldn't tell he was firing a crossbow at him and his whitelighter guardian - and then Steve glanced from his bow to his opponents', his looks quickly becoming panicked as the man turned to face him and he still couldn't figure out what happened.

His crossbow was missing its arrow, he had indeed fired it, but it hadn't hit the pair and for some reason he couldn't reload. He couldn't summon another arrow and it was freaking him out.

Where had the first one gone? What was going on?!

That's when he spotted it - in midair, perfectly frozen a foot from the man's shoulder. And that same giggling baby, the one he'd thought so stupid a moment ago, batted his tiny, thick-lashed blue eyes and Steve watched the arrow sink harmlessly to the floor.

Wait, the baby was a witch?! That was _so_ not fair!

He had seconds before that deceptively harmless gaze switched to him and just enough time to think that this was a way more embarrassing death than a potion.

A millisecond before it happened, he whispered,

"Oh, _no_."

And then fire and pain engulfed him, his organs exploding in his chest, and Steve the Dark-lighter was vanquished by a child.

* * *

"Chris! Chris! Oh my God, CHRIS!"

There was an insistent voice calling for him. He stirred lightly, but didn't want to wake up. The dark was so heavy, so stifling, weighing down on him like a big winter blanket – he wasn't sure if he wanted to leave, or if he could.

They sounded worried, though, he noted.

"Chris! Please!"

Scratch that – they sounded _scared_. In a distant way, very removed from himself, he thought he recalled what Scared was.

Mostly, he knew it wasn't fun. Something told him it felt like...like cold nights and rejection and this horrible, loud pounding in his chest, and...

And agony.

That thought, like a rock splashing in a pond, sent ripples of feeling down his body – ripples of _pain_.

Suddenly there was glorious _air_ filling his empty chest, suddenly the winter blanket was being lifted from him - yet his limbs still felt heavy and cumbersome. Everything felt bruised and battered and achy – had he let a demon use him as a punching bag?

A groan escaped his lips, and abruptly he felt something grip his shoulder. A hand, maybe? Yes, he decided. A calloused hand.

He wished they wouldn't squeeze so hard, he still felt like someone had lit his limbs on fire. Especially his chest. His chest definitely felt charred and ashed - it was too easy to visualize a fireball having been thrown at his heart.

But wait...

He furrowed his brow. There was a strange warmth spreading through his chest, and the more time that passed, the better he began to feel. Someone could've been dipping him into liquid sunlight - everything was so light and soothing and warm, after the oppressing darkness.

Pretty soon, the pain was gone, and all he wanted to do burrow into this soft, calming emotion and go to sleep...Surely he didn't have anything better to do?

Nothing could be of more importance than a comfy, warm nap right here, right now...

"Chris! Chris! Please, come on. I need you wake up, buddy..."

Chris knew that voice, knew that _that_ voice shouldn't ever be shouting at him, shouldn't be that scared, or concerned.

But for the life of him, he couldn't remember why.

"S'eepy, Dad..." He mumbled, a frown on his features. He wished for nothing more than to was curl up and rest in this warmth, rest in this safe, _home_ feeling invading his chest. It was so nice. He hadn't felt so content in a long, _long_ time...

Couldn't he just sleep?

Suddenly he remembered exactly why that voice was so wrong, remembered why he should _never ever_ wake up to it, and his eyes flew open and he sat up so quickly the world spun.

Memories flew fast and jumbled into his drowsy brain, going something like _in-the-past-Mom's-alive-had-a-fight-went-on-a-hunt-got-shot-with-an-arrow-then-Dad-healed..._

Wait.

He blinked furiously, hating his body for being so dizzy. When everything came back into focus, a vaguely-blond figure swam before him, as did a smaller figure in his arms.

"Wha..." He cleared his throat, running a hand through his filthy brown hair. "What happened?"

Because what he remembered up to now wasn't quite adding up. This was all weird and wrong and-and...

"You were hurt, Chris. The dark-lighter, he...but it's okay now."

Chris was dismayed to discover his father's eyes were red, though he was beaming down at him like he was the greatest thing in the world. Those were two emotions he'd never thought he'd see on Leo's face again - _tears,_ freakin' _tears_ , and _pure joy_ \- and they were both oh so clearly directed at him.

What the heck was Chris supposed to do with that?

To distract himself, the male turned his gaze lower, to the bundle giggling in Leo's arms.

Wyatt.

Okay, now he was _sure_ something was wrong – Chris felt like he'd awakened into bizarro world, where Leo actually _cared_ , and was stupid enough to bring Wyatt to the Underworld. While the latter was pretty crazy, the former was totally insane, and it was for a whole different reason that Chris felt the room swim again. This was just...weird.

"What's Wyatt doing here?" He asked, trying not to feel like everything was still spinning.

Much like he'd done a second ago (it was so much like himself Chris thought it was creepy), Leo cleared his throat, his wide smile dimming a bit.

"He helped me find you, Chris. When you...left, yesterday," Chris got the feeling the words Leo was looking for was _stormed out_ , and that made him feel like a rebellious teenager.

"We were worried. The sisters called for you and you didn't come and when I couldn't sense you – we...we thought something bad had happened."

He snorted, bringing a hand up to rub his previously wounded chest.

"Yeah, something _did_. I got shot with a dark-lighter arrow." The words were out of his mouth before he'd even thought about them.

To his fascination and maybe guilt, they made the Elder flinch.

But why should he think about them? He didn't care what Leo thought. He _definitely_ didn't care how the man felt. _Keep telling yourself that,_ a part of him whispered, but he shoved that thought aside.

"I'm fine, though. Now." He said gruffly, standing up on shaky legs and ignoring his father's attempts to assist. "Guess you got rid of the dark-lighter and, uh, healed me?"

The stupid guy's grin looked like it was breaking his face again.

"Wyatt helped." Ah. That explained why the demon wasn't trapped somewhere - Leo wasn't a fighter, he was a pacifist, and between the pair of them on who would more likely vanquish a demon, Chris's money would always be on the toddler.

Against his will, Chris felt a smile tug at his mouth, and very pointedly stared at his big little brother.

"Thanks, little guy."

There was an awkward moment where Chris met Leo's gaze and saw something very strange glittering beneath those sincere blue eyes – something like worry, or care or... _love_.

Chris chose to look away, brushing some dirt from his jeans – although that was pretty futile, seeing as the cave had pretty thoroughly ruined his whole outfit with water and muck.

Kicking at invisible pebbles, he crossed his arms over his chest protectively, shivering as he remembered the arrow piercing his midsection.

It was getting awkwardly silent.

He contemplated thanking his father, quickly discarded the idea, then mused on simply orbing out. But Leo had mentioned his family searching for him...maybe he should go back, tell them he's okay?

He didn't want to...to be _here_ , with his dad, or go 'home', but at this same time, he kinda did. This was..awkward but it wasn't - it didn't feel _bad_ \- it...

It was nice. The whole caring thing.

"So uh...are they mad at me?" He inquired. Surely Leo knew about their fight by now. Surely the man was angry and going to convince him he should just go away, that he should just leave their family alone. Suddenly he regretted letting himself think that Leo could ever really care, or feel anything besides disappointment towards him.

Yeah, just orbing to P3 and crashing on the couch was sounding heavenly about now.

"Well, Piper did yell at everyone for a while. She's just worried though – I don't think she liked you just orbing out like that, yesterday."

Chris twisted his mouth to the side. Shame churned his stomach.

"Well, I-I.." He swallowed, trying not to look at the Elder. He knew that she would be mad, that she would yell. That was how Piper was. But still, he thought, maybe if he came back and apologized, she wouldn't despise him completely.

Some part of him recognized that if he went back now, if he apologized to these crazy, ridiculous people they would become his family. That after all the pain he'd gone through his resolve was all but dust.

He would start saying yes to lunches and dinners and maybe even those persistent invitations to live at the manor. He would begin to _let them in_.

That was a terrifying concept. It scared him to his core.

But Chris, deep inside as he could push down the feeling, was lonely, and his heart ached for them all. Piper and Phoebe and Paige and Wyatt and ...maybe even Leo.

He _wanted_ his family back - desperately. Even if it was just for the time he was here; even if he had to lose them all over again when he went back.

"I guess we should go back, then." He whispered. Something broke inside him then, yet at the same time, a pleasant glow started within. As though Leo were still healing him.

Chris wasn't even annoyed when he heard the relief and happiness in his father's tone.

"Yeah, Piper will be worried sick by now. She'll be happy to know you're okay."

Leo tightened his grip on little Wy and was about to orb when Chris blurted out,

"Thanks, Dad."

The Halliwell had _no idea_ where those stupid words had come from, didn't know why he'd used 'Dad' instead of 'Leo', like he usually did.

It made scarlet heat rush to his cheeks at his slip-up. Immediately, in shame, Chris started to orb away.

But although the time traveler didn't have the courage to stay and face that strong blue gaze after his embarrassing mistake, he still heard his reply through the chimes of musical blue lights.

Two words. Just two. Wonderful and horrible and amazing, they twisted up some awful hope behind his ribcage.

Chris didn't think he was ready to believe them just yet, but he treasured them all the same.

And that was how he materialized into the middle of the attic - his shirt caked with dried blood, his jeans soggy and dirty, and an odd, slow smile spreading across his face.

_"Anytime, son."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I apologize about Steve. He wasn't supposed to be there, but then he was and totally ruining my drama. Lol, maybe he was a tad funny? I don't know.
> 
> Please comment, tell me what you think!


	6. Awkward

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one can stand alone or follow the events of the last chapter, Chris's Death. It's up to you.
> 
> Unbeta'd. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!

It was awkward, him juggling both Wyatt and a book on his lap, but it gave Chris an excuse to ignore Leo.

The man was perched delicately on a chair at the other end of the table, and by his expression you'd think he was sitting on a cactus. Worry crinkled lines around his blue eyes and there was a sort of nervousness, a kind of – dare Chris say – _youthful_ energy about him that intrigued the time traveler. It wasn't there in his time.

But he couldn't study it, of course, because he was pretending his father isn't in the room; and with a jolt he realized he'd read this page on gremlocks three times already.

The baby clutched in his arms cooed softly at him. Why wouldn't he? Chris thought darkly. After crying for thirty minutes straight, giving Chris a headache, then refusing to shut up until he was held, the time traveler had decided he rather liked his eardrums, thank you, and hadn't wanted them to be shattered.

So now he was holding a freakin' kid version of his brother, mostly because Piper had to go to the store for a bit and deemed her second son 'responsible' or whatever.

And maybe that would've been alright, time travel weirdness aside (the kid was not so bad quiet), _but_ that was when Leo orbed in and sat his butt in the kitchen chair like he owned the place. Okay, yeah he used to. Sort of.

But still. It was kinda pretentious of him.

Chris had decided to do the mature thing – he was ignoring him.

Yet, it didn't appear to be working.

With a giggle, the small bundle in his arms tried to grab one of the pages in his book.

The thing was a tome really, borrowed from magic school, and as it was being fairly unhelpful, Chris almost wanted to see the toddler try to consume paper. It'd be funny.

Yeah...that was probably why he shouldn't be considered 'responsible'.

"Um."

Chris tried not to flinch at the sudden sound, failed, and kept his eyes on the currently-endangered-by-drool book.

"What is it, Leo?" He asked casually. As though this wasn't about to evolve into some angry/emotional 'talk' or big fight, like it always did when the pair were alone.

_Just keep ignoring him_ , he thought, _and the man will go away eventually. He always does._

"Okay. Uh, Chris." Leo began hesitantly, only it wasn't really a beginning because those tended to go someplace – and Leo didn't actually add anything else.

Curious, Chris lifted his head – big mistake, now Wyatt was gumming and drooling all over the index – and saw his father sigh and put his head in his hands.

Something in Chris's chest twinged.

This was...different.

This version of Leo was so _emotional_. So open, so naive, so vulnerable. It almost hurt him to look at the guy, even though that was unfair and cruel on so many levels.

"Er...Leo?"

The Elder smiled, if a little sadly, lifting his head up, and glanced down at Chris's burdens.

The brown-haired man guessed that Leo had something fatherly to say and simply couldn't go through with it – which was completely fine with Chris, as he didn't want to bond with this to-be-jerk anyway.

Yet curiosity remained.

"I think Wyatt likes your book." He said, nodding at Chris's lap. The words were a bit lame, like someone trying to break the ice for the first time, but Chris decided to let it go. It didn't matter. Nothing he said mattered, right?

"He can have it. Nothing useful in there anyway."

Leo gave a small laugh, chalk full of nervousness and a little something else. It brought a wry smile to his son's face, even though Chris was supposed to hate this guy.

"So. Um." The whitelighter started for a second time. There was a determination in the clench of his hands and it promised to see him through...whatever this was.

Oh boy.

Just for somewhere else to look, Chris watched his (big) little brother put the sharp corner of 'Dangerous Magical Creatures' into his mouth.

"Piper's not here." He interrupted dully.

Leo blinked.

Suddenly there was that pain again, flickering across the elder's face and lingering in his eyes, and making Chris feel like a jerk. Ironic, right?

"I know."

"You came here for Wyatt then." Chris said, and it was a firm statement, not a question or opinion to be argued with.

Like with it he could actually make this uncomfortable, definitely-weird-and-unacceptable talk with his father who had never been there _not happen_.

Well, that was the plan anyway.

So he got up, placing the 'used' tome on the table, and moved closer with Wyatt as a shield between them.

Chris knew that as soon as Wyatt was in good hands, he could orb out and _not_ look at this man's stupid perceptive blue eyes, and his stupid hurt face. He could stop _feeling_ for this man who had always abandoned him.

Seriously, it brought a whole new spectrum of pain to his 'daddy issues'.

"Actually, Chris, I came –"

"To have some alone time with your son. Sure. I get it." Chris gritted out with a smile. He planted the toddler, who was only too happy to be with his dad, his pudgy arms reaching adorably, in an unsuspecting Leo's arms.

"Have fun, Leo."

"Chris, wait, I –"

But Christopher Perry didn't wait, didn't want to listen to half-hearted, meaningless apologies.

He'd heard them before, memorized them, ripped up the ones written on paper. They were words alone; he'd never known actions to follow.

Instead, he vanished into blue-and-white orbs and left his father alone with Wyatt.

It was how Leo had always wanted it anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one is short. I would've added more but it felt more natural to end it here.
> 
> Yes, Chris is kinda being an angsty, pathetic jerk. His family will eventually slap some sense into him. 
> 
> And whoops. He was making some progress, wasn't he? Oh, well.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Please comment!


	7. Sweet Dreams (Part 1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Unbeta'd

Chris was exhausted.

His head and arms were resting on the Book of Shadows, his index finger tapping on the open page.

The Book (a.k.a Chris's new pillow) was opened to a picture a dark, nearly-obscured-by-mist creature, red eyes peering through the darkness and sharp claws glistening in invisible light.

Its title said, 'Insomnium Demon'. The part of the descriptive paragraph Chris wasn't covering up started, _'The demon of nightmares is easily bested in close combat, but beware his power over the subconscious. If not careful, this demon can kill by–_ '

But none of that seemed to register on the male. In fact, his dimmed, weary eyes were fixed not on the page, but somewhere near the attic door, and his mind was miles away.

A stranger would've said the man looked bored, restless, even – but anyone who knew Chris might've noted the dark, bruise-like circles under his eyes and the deeper-than-usual-scowl on his face. If his family had peered into his face, they would've instead declared him exhausted, frustrated and...scared. It wasn't in the way his hands shook or how his fingers never stopped moving. It wasn't even in the way he sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

No, the fear was in his bleak, tired eyes.

_Should I tell them?_ He wondered, blinking slowly. _Is it that bad yet?_

He thought of Piper (her stomach was forever expanding now) and how worried she would be. She would be angry, first – and he winced/smiled at the thought, because that was such a _Mom_ thing – but ultimately she would worry. Those awful lines would crinkle around her eyes and mouth, and her lips would tug downwards and she would furrow her brow a bunch.

Could he add to her every-growing pile of problems right now? What with finding who turned Wyatt, preparing to have another baby, to have _him_ (which was a super weird thought), taking care of her family...

No. He wouldn't add to that.

The thought of telling Leo flitted briefly across his consciousness – and, just as quickly, flew away. Leo...wouldn't care. Chris already knew that.

But maybe he could ask one of his aunts for help.

The choice of Phoebe was neatly squashed, albeit reluctantly, since he remembered how much that woman could _not_ keep a secret. Not even to save a life. Not even to save _his_ life.

Then again, he wasn't sure if Paige was much better. Sure, she could keep her mouth shut, but could she help him?

Did she even _want_ to help him?

He sighed, closing his eyes and letting his face fall into the family Book. Despite currently standing, slumped over a book-stand and resting his head on a papery, uncomfortable tome, Chris felt the exhaustion creep in again.

It would be so nice to just close his eyes, maybe take a nap, and let the darkness overcome him...

Yeah. That sounded...pretty good.

Just for a second. He would only...rest. For a moment.

The world disappeared and a comfortable warmth surrounded him, and he smiled, settling in to sleep...

No! NO! WAKE UP!

Chris's head snapped up. His heart was pounding in his ears, the lingering sleepiness making his mind feel stuffed full of cotton. He couldn't believe he'd almost...

He shuddered. That would've been very, _very_ _bad_.

The world was still blurry, his eyes couldn't stop blinking, and all he wanted to do was curl up and sleep, but he knew he couldn't rest.

Not now; not yet.

It was difficult to remember why – or rather, he knew why, only the deadly excuse mattered less and less to the sweet promise of sleep. The consequences were beginning to seem less real, less true to his sleep deprived state.

_I've gone without sleep for days before_. He thought, scowling at nothing in particular. _I can hold out for a little longer._ Never mind the slight exaggeration _–_ that he had managed a couple days with very _little_ sleep, not 42 hours of _no_ sleep. And it wasn't like he'd been getting his full eight hours at night for weeks, even before this.

He swallowed back a yawn.

Reluctantly detaching himself from the Book of Shadows, he tried to straighten and shake off the lethargy.

"I guess I could tell Paige." He grumbled to himself. That last almost-sleep had scared him more than he wanted to admit.

No, he didn't want to worry or bother his family with his troubles (or at least more than usual), but this decided it – he _had_ to tell someone.

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad. He thought hopefully. Maybe he wouldn't regret this at all.

* * *

 

Chris regretted everything.

From underneath her perfectly pinned, recently dyed-brown locks, Paige's sharp eyes were narrowed in on his.

Blinking, he noted the extra makeup on her face, the fancy pink dress and impressively tall heels she was wearing. In fact, with the added height, she was almost up to his chin now, making her glare all the more imposing.

There was a sinking feeling in his stomach that told him this was a horrible idea.

"Chris, my favorite nephew from the future." She said, false sweetness lacing her tone. "What are you doing here?"

P3 was about to open, he knew, and she was about to leave. He presumed she'd been helping Piper out with something and was now going somewhere nice, but Chris really hadn't thought about any of that when he'd covertly orbed into the back room. He'd just sensed her presence; he hadn't really wondered why _here._

The only coherent thoughts in his brain had gone something like, _Find Paige. Tell Paige. Don't go to sleep._

Now that he looked around, feeling a tad more awake, he realized this was not the best place for a private conversation. Let alone a discussion about magic and demons.

"Um.." He began, blinking again. There were black spots in his vision, and he thought maybe he was swaying a bit.

"You're not here about..." She glanced around, lowered her voice. " _demons,_ are you? Because we've been vanquishing those all week, and on top of that I've had to work in Piper's club and listen to her yell at me for not letting her help. It's been really stressful."

There _was_ a frazzled look about her, underneath the makeup and hair.

"Seriously! I think this is the first hour I've been almost completely alone _all week_ , no sisters or family or magic or work _,_ and I don't want to go hunt a you-know-what because-because...it's the _weekend_ , Chris!"

"Um.."

Was it sleep deprivation, or did she sound like she was... _pleading_ with him? He considered all the times he'd begged his cool Aunt Paige to buy him something his mom wouldn't, and had to suppress a hysterical chuckle at the irony.

"Listen, I understand that your mission is important, Chris, and I am totally on board with it. But it's _Saturday night_. I need a break, okay?"

"But-" He started.

"No! No demons!" She interrupted. Taking in a deep breath (apparently her little-sister-rant had winded her), she propped a hand on her hip and studied him with a more neutral look.

"So...what _are_ you doing here?" She asked dubiously, waiting for the inevitable answer.

Suddenly Chris didn't know what to say. He was sluggish and out of it and had somewhat hoped that she'd know the problem just by _looking_ at him. That theory was going right down the drain.

A hurt, childish part of him whispered that _Mom_ would've known. No words necessary.

But his mom wasn't here, and he hadn't gone to Piper with this, he'd chosen his Aunt Paige.

"I uh..." He swallowed.

How to explain the situation? Where to start? Was there a quick way to communicate I'm-being-stalked-in-my-dreams-by-a-demon-and-I-am-too-tired-to-figure-out-how-to-find-and-kill-him?

Probably not, Chris figured.

The silence stretched on and he thought about how nice it would be to close his eyes...

"Chris?"

His head shot up. The time traveler realized he'd almost fallen asleep standing up. That was...dangerous. And weird. Focusing in on Paige, he could make out blurry worry on her face. Her so wrong, too-young face, with none of the age lines and crinkles he knew so well.

She stood right in front of him and he found he had never missed her more.

"Chris, are you okay?"

The automatic response, 'Fine', was half-way out of his mouth before he seized the opportunity.

"Actually, Paige...can we talk? Not..." A massive yawn interrupted him. "...here? At home?"

"Um...Yeah."

Despite how bone-weary he was, he didn't miss her fleeting glance up the staircase and to freedom.

Guilt twinged in his chest, but he reminded himself that he couldn't fix everything, and someone had to be there to fix him. This was more important than her date.

Helping him would help Wyatt - that thought eased his conscience and he let the guilt go.

"Yeah, that's fine." Paige said. "We can...let's just orb home, okay? From the back."

A distant part of Chris's brain – the only part still functioning normally – wondered if she had brought her car to P3 and if she would have to come back for it tomorrow morning.

But then his aunt was tugging on his arm, pulling him past the empty bar and pushing him into the back room he hadn't slept in for days. Chris prepared himself to orb, summoning up what energy he could. This might make him pass out, he realized, but he didn't say anything. He didn't know how.

Then felt a hand on his arm. Someone else's orbs, light and gentle and comforting, surrounded him.

Chris smiled and let Paige take him home.

* * *

 

When the allure of sleep became too much, he began to pace, forcing his feet back and forth.

He'd brought Paige to the attic and tapped the still-open Book, letting her read the entry for herself. He also may or may not have explained the problem and how the whole situation had come about, in great detail – although judging from her confused glances up from the Book of Shadows, that had been a hallucination.

"So...you _did_ bring me here to hunt down a demon." Was her sarcastic comment.

"Well, yeah. Kinda." He mumbled, his own wit failing him. Instead, all his energy went to pacing – more like plodding at his speed – from the doorway to the window of the attic.

"But no. I mean..I can't sleep." He told her. There, he'd admitted it, that should explain it – no wait, there was that bemused expression on his aunt's face again.

Chris hated his brain for not working normally right now. He couldn't understand even the simplest of things at the moment.

"Okay. What does that have to do with this demon? And ruining my date tonight?" She asked. Then she tapped her chin. "But if you're desperate about getting some sleep, there _is_ a sleeping potion that might –"

"No, _no!_ I _can't_ sleep!" He shouted. The extra volume sapped what little strength he had left, and he slumped almost comfortably against a wall.

"I haven't slept in...days..." He struggled to get the words out. "'Cause I _can't_ sleep. This demon...will kill me."

"Oh. _Oh_."

"Mmm." His chin slumped against his chest, eyes fluttering dangerously.

"But Chris, I don't understand– Chris. _CHRIS!_ "

He jerked up, hating her a little for disturbing his rest. Then what was left of his common sense kicked in and he realized she might've just saved his life.  
But damn, if he didn't feel even worse than before.

"Um..thanks. I'm..jus'...really tired."

She didn't say anything for a long moment, one minute or thirty Chris couldn't tell, but it felt like forever before she spoke again.

"So how do we fix this?"

He stared at her, uncomprehending.

"Uh...vanquish him?" It kinda gave him hope; that he had managed deadpan status in this state.

She threw her hands up in frustration, or as much as her tight dress would allow.

"I mean, how do we _find_ this guy and _how_ do we vanquish him? So you can sleep?"

"Um..." _Darn it_ _– work brain, work!_ "I don't know how to locate him, but...isn't there a potion?"

It was beyond the Time Traveler why she was asking _him_ how to fix this mess, dumb as he was right now, so he took a shot in the dark.

"Hmm...well, whatta ya know?" She tapped the page with a manicured nail and smiled.

Chris tried to smile back, failed miserably.

"Still, we need some way to find him."

"Yeah. That's what you're here for. Hey, Paige.." He mumbled, feeling weakness seep into his bones.

"If we had something of his we could scry for him, but–"

"Sure. I'm gonna go get some coffee." The lethargy was spreading, getting deeper and thicker and trapping him again.

"–maybe there's a spell here that we can use or–"

"Cool. Be back in a sec'." He mumbled.

The woman didn't even glance up from her babbling, even as she began to assemble caldron and all the ingredients they would need for the potion. He opened his mouth to warn her she might want to get changed before she made that potion (hadn't he read that it was kinda explosive?) but a yawn came out instead.

Flapping a hand at her, he thought _,_ _Forget it,_ and stumbled through the door and down the stairs in search of coffee.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So this will be a two-shot, possibly three. Tell me what you think ^^
> 
> Thanks for reading! Please comment!


	8. Alternative Plans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LOOK A FLUFFY AUNT/NEPHEW CHAPTER! I'M NOT SURE WHERE WY WENT IN THIS STORY, BUT LOOK! FLUFF!
> 
> Um, so this is not Sweet Dreams part 2. It's an unrelated drabble, set before Sweet Dreams.
> 
> I'm working on the other one (I really, really am), but this was already finished so I thought, why wait? Hope you like it!
> 
> Thanks for reading!

"This was _so_ not what I planned for today." Chris muttered, hitting his head against one of his prison's metal bars.

From a few feet away in an identical rusty, magical cage, Paige shot him a glare. Due to current circumstances, it barely registered to Chris at all – though that could be because he didn't see it, being so wrapped up in damaging his forehead.

"Yeah, cause this was definitely on _my_ agenda for today." She hissed back. "It was number three on my list, right after 'get eaten by a dragon', and just before 'pedicure'."

Chris paused in his self-flagellation long enough to rub reddened head and roll his eyes at her.

"I think I was being sarcastic enough for the both of us, Paige."

"Well, we don't need your sarcasm right now, Chris! We need to escape before we're tortured. Or killed. Or sold to the highest bidder on the demon black market. Or eaten." She paused, considering. "Maybe all of the above."

There was a sigh from the other cage.

"They don't eat people, Paige, I told you that _before_. I'm curious – do you actually listen when I talk, or do you just put me on mute?"

Paige's returning look was cold, and she began pacing agitatedly in her small cell. She could only take two small, stiletto-ed steps backwards and forwards, and it only served to further her agitation.

"Okay, _sometimes_ I put you on mute. Sometimes I'm just not listening." She admitted, crossing her arms over her chest. "So what do you know about these guys?"  
Letting out a frustrated groan, the man ran a hand through unkempt, oily locks. Paige wrinkled her nose – when was the last time her nephew had taken a shower?

"If you had listened to me the _first_ time –" He gave her a pointed, angry stare. "You would know that these guys are power-stealers. They want our powers – both whitelighter and witch ones. They do this whole ritual thing in the light of the full moon, say some words and the bam, we're completely mortal."

Paige blinked.

"We're inside a cave."

"Well maybe not _literally_ then! Maybe it just has to be at the time of a full moon. Maybe it's just a stupid demon tradition."

Chris sighed and slumped further against the back of his cell, flicking his fingers at the door in the faint hope his telekinesis would work on the lock. Nope.

Then again, if it hadn't worked the _first_ ten times, why would it work the eleventh?

He waved his hand at it yet again. And again. And...

After a moment, his aunt spoke up.

"Why are we arguing?" She asked, seemingly wondering aloud. "This is stupid."

"No, what's _stupid_ is that Phoebe had to work and Mom is busy at P3. Two witch-lighters does not the Power of Three make."

Though he was too busy burying his head in his knees to see (a formidable task with those ridiculously nobby things), the Charmed One smiled slightly at the title.

Piper was ' _Mom'_.

Not little Wyatt's adorable 'Mama', or even 'Mommy', but ' _Mom'._ Like she had a big, rebellious teenager or something.

Which, Paige supposed, she kind of did. This was still a little weird.

Guilt churned her stomach and she found herself glaring at the ceiling of the cage. As if someone up there had any answers.

Usually, the two of them didn't do things by themselves. Either Phoebe or Piper or even baby Wyatt was there in-between, and it tended to cut down on the snark. Like, a lot.

Without her sisters to reel her in, Paige knew she was being overly snippy, but wasn't sure how to stop. Chris was...Chris. Annoying and unhelpful and with a sarcastic wit to rival hers.

Pushing down a chuckle, she realized it was what she'd always imagined having a brother would be like. Odd.

Paige was used to being an only child. She'd only _just_ gotten used to being a sister to two crazy witchy women, one of which had a tiny baby. Now she had a nephew/brotherly figure as well? It was freaking crazy, that's what it was!

They were too much the same, too much alike for there to be anything but friction.

Plus, he knew just about _everything_ about her and Phoebe and Piper...and they knew _so little_ about him. He wouldn't tell them anything. Sometimes his secrets made him feel like that stranger again – the one they distrusted and disliked.

Yep – her feelings regarding her new nephew were complicated and angry and maybe overwhelmed, but none of their issues would help them escape right now.

She was the adult here. Er, supposedly. Mostly.

It was up to her to take charge.

"Listen, Chris, I know we don't really...we don't actually...um, we –" She paused, her mouth opening and closing as she searched for the right, non-snipy words. Finally she sighed.

"Listen, buddy, we need a plan to get out of here. We don't have time for petty arguments."

His mouth was turned down unpleasantly, but he nodded nonetheless.

"Yeah, I know. So whatta ya got?"

Paige took a moment to do inventory – blocked orbing abilities, blocked telekinesis-orbing, a gash on her arm that really stung right about now, and of course her sarcasm, the only thing that was completely undamaged – and scowled down at a chipped nail.

Why was it never _easy?_

"Nothing great. Our best bet right now is to try a spell to get us out of these cages." She decided. "I think the blocking charm is in the metal, so if we break free we should be able to orb to the Surface."

"But what about the demons?" Chris asked, already lifting his head up and sitting a little straighter. "All our vanquishing potions are smashed, and they _will_ come after us again."

"I think we can take them if we make it home. Get more potions."

"We couldn't take them last time at home." She heard him mutter.

Irritation, sharp and unhelpful, flared again inside her chest. A cruel voice in the back of her head whispered something about Prue probably being able to handle them, but Paige gave that thought a swift mental kick and shook her head. They didn't need two neurotic witch-lighters.

"One problem at a time." She said. "Plus, I bet'cha we could vanquish them easily with the Power of Three."

"Okay. _Okay_."

Silence descended upon the pair. Paige began to wrack her brain for any spell that would free them. In her mind, she flipped through the old, yellowed pages of Book of Shadows, tried to picture any sort of escaping spell, or maybe unlocking spell...

"Um...I've seen this spell in the book - the To Create a Door spell." Paige offered, trying not to rub her tired eyes.

Chris squinted at her from his cage, most of his quizzical glance lost to the bars blocking her vision.

"Don't you need a piece of chalk for that one?"

The brunette sighed, letting herself lean (slump really) against the locked door of her prison. She tried to recall the exact color and shape of the words of the spell she spoke of, and as the details floated back to her, she thought he might be right.

"Oh, yeah. I forgot." Then she jerked her head back up. "How do you know that?"

Her nephew shrugged easily and didn't meet her eyes as he answered, softly,

"I look through the Book most days. It feels like I've memorized it by now."

There was an underlying message there that she dare not poke at – an unsaid implication, or maybe an odd tone that betrayed that he was desperate about his cause. More desperate than usual, in any case.

Still, the witch-lighter thought that wasn't the most pressing issue at the moment. More important was the fact that if he claimed to be intimately familiar with the Book and couldn't come up with one, what chance did she, with her if-y spell abilities, have?

"So you memorized it, yet you can't think of a _single_ spell that might be helpful right now?" Her tone was incredulous.

Somehow between a space in the bars she got a glimpse of his green orbs, and for the first time since she'd known him, they looked young, maybe defenseless.

"Well, you can't either!" He shot back.

It kind of hit her in that moment that he was her _nephew._ He was just a _kid_. He was _their kid_. And he was just as clueless in this situation as she was.

For a long moment neither said anything, the only sound in the room the faint sounds of demon chanting as they readied themselves for the ceremony. Finally though, Paige's smile broke free and she ducked her head to hide it.

"Touche."

"Okay, shut up." That was kind of unexpected, she thought. "I'm _thinking,_ alright?" He added snobbishly at her look.

The pale woman obeyed, biting her red lips and holding in a laugh. Whether at the absurdity of the situation or over the fact that super-serious-neurotic Chris was acting _childish_ for once, she wasn't sure.

But for the first time Paige began to feel excited for little Chris to be born, and began to think about what the next twenty-odd years of their lives would be like.

His first steps...his first words...his first day of school...all the family dinners that Piper would be sure to drag everyone to.

Maybe little Chris would have little cousins to play with. Either way, Paige and Phoebe were going to spoil the kid rotten.

And his first crush! His first love... Oh, she was so going to torment her nephew _endlessly_... You know, if they actually managed to escape and somehow prevent Wyatt from turning evil.

Chris stood up abruptly, jarring her out of her musings.

"Uh, I think I got one. Okay," He cleared his throat.

"Guided spirits

hear our plea,

Unlock these cages,

set us free."

That was a cobbled together spell if Paige had ever heard one, but she was impressed that he'd come up with it so quickly, and under pressure too. She was still tilting her head and trying to picture Chris small and toddler-like. But that wasn't important. Not now.

The real question was, would Chris's spell work?

Paige eyed the door in front of her, backing up a step just in case.

Now had it been Piper, she could've made the worst rhyme of all time (Paige winced mentally at that one) and the spirits or Elders or whoever decided if spells worked – Powers That Be, maybe – would've sighed, rolled their eyes, then let it go. Probably because Piper could scare anybody and everybody if she wanted to.

But Chris? He wasn't a Charmed One. He was just a son of one, and he certainly wasn't as scary as his mother. Could he make it work?

A loud boom followed by the smell of sulfur and much smoke said he could.

Paige held a hand over her mouth, coughing hard as she surged through conjured smoke and on to freedom. She waved hands in front of her face, vainly trying to stop inhaling the horribly smelling substance.

"C-Chris?" She called between coughs.

"Y-yeah! 'M good!" Chris's rough voice called back.

Though the Charmed One couldn't see him, she trusted he had enough common sense to try and orb now, and did so herself. Concentrating, she found, gleefully, that the white-and-blue orbs were not hard to summon around her at all.

Soon, the smoke and cages and cave were disappearing around her.

Soon, she opened her eyes to find a familiar attic surrounding her. She grinned at the welcoming sight, breathing in fresh air eagerly.

"Yes! Suck it, Lunar Demons!" She cheered.

Although Paige knew that the demons would quickly realize their prey was missing (the magical explosion thing _was_ pretty loud), and she knew that they needed to get some vanquishing potions or collect Piper and Phoebe quickly, she decided a few seconds of victory dancing was completely necessary. It was also completely awesome.

Within a few seconds, a familiar brown-haired figure materialized next to her, still coughing a bit.

"You okay, Chris?"

He flapped a hand at her, face still red and hands on knees.

"Fine. Good." He gasped. "But that spell was _way_ more explosive than it was supposed to be."

"Dude. Welcome to my world." She deadpanned. "Where spells only work half the time and when they do, there's always a bit of a backfire."

Breathing through his nose, he finally managed to straighten. Parts of his jeans and shirt were singed.

"Magic sucks." He said. Most days, she really, really agreed with him.

Now was not the time for this thought, so Paige just smiled at him.

"Come on, we need to get Piper and Phoebe." She reminded him. "Those demons could be right behind us and I don't know about you, but I don't like the thought of facing them alone again."

The Charmed One shuddered, still feeling their phantom claws in her, digging into her orbs and grounding her in one place.

"Yeah, that'd be bad." He agreed.

For a second they just stared at one another. Paige felt a grin creeping over her lips. Somehow, really _feeling_ that he was related to her had totally changed how she felt about him. Maybe it would last, maybe it wouldn't, but she thought she might _try_ now. To get along.

"I call getting Phoebe!" She yelled, and orbed away. Just as she was turning into a thousand magical lights, she heard Chris mutter, "Dammit!" and begin to orb away too.

When she returned with a slightly annoyed Phoebe on her arm, her nephew was already standing there, looking much wearier than before. Piper, her belly wide and her expression cross, stood next to him.

It was hard work, but Paige just managed to hide the laugh that bubbled up.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you to everyone who read and commented!! You are amazing!!
> 
> Sorry for the lack of Wyatt lately - I'll try to focus more on him in later chapters.
> 
> Hope you keep reading!


	9. Sweet Dreams part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been over a year! Oh my goodness, that's insane. I can't believe it's about to be 2017! Sometimes I still think it's 2012. Just. Wow.
> 
> So here's a slightly longer chapter for you. If anyone is still reading this. And I'm very, very sorry for the wait!
> 
> Disclaimer - I own nothing

Paige chucked potion ingredients into the bubbling pot like she was trying to throw a football across a field – as hard as she could.

 

"Let's see..next is dried toad dust." She said to herself. Picking said vial up, she yanked the cork out and violently shook out an approximate amount into the potion.

The cauldron hissed and sparked at her, which usually meant it was going okay. She slammed the empty bottle down on the table and glared at it anyway.

 

Staring into the dark, bubbly mass emitting smoke and fumes in front of her (thank goodness they'd disabled the smoke detectors a _long_ time ago), she realized she might be a tad angry.

 

Paige breathed in deep, trying to relax her clenched fists.

 

She wasn't even sure why she was mad really – she didn't _think_ she was angry with her nephew. After all, it wasn't his fault a nightmare demon was stalking his dreams, she reasoned.

 

Then her frown deepened. It could be _._ He hadn't said.

 

Chris – who was looking worse than she'd ever seen him, with near bruises under his eyes and a drunken sway to his steps – hadn't explained very much. His distant gaze had been pleading, but lost when he'd asked her for help.

 

She sighed, rubbing her temples.

 

"It's been a long week."

 

That was the understatement of the year.

 

The youngest Charmed One had taken a break from her temp jobs (well, she'd been fired again) and had spent her week doing all the things Piper wasn't supposed to be doing anymore – like taking care of the club and cleaning up the Manor and fighting all of Chris's damn demons.

 

Yeah.

 

Paige had _really_ been looking forwards to her date tonight.

 

 

And maybe, just maybe, she was a little angry at herself for feeling that way. She shouldn't be even a _tad_ bit furious for at nephew for something like this, but she was. She was stressed and tired and a bit furious with everyone right now, even Piper.

 

 _Especially_ Piper, she decided, a reluctant smile tugging at her mouth.

 

"Okay. This should be done." She muttered. It was certainly the revolting shade of grey as seen in the Book.

 

The brunette picked up a few empty vials and began to carefully squeeze enough drops into each of them, feeling her hands relax as she did so.

 

"After this, I'll call Brent to cancel and then sleep-in until Sunday." She promised herself, fury giving way to acceptance.

 

 

"Are you talking to the vanquishing potion?"

 

 

Paige jerked up again to see Chris leaning in the doorway, looking slightly more awake with a mug of coffee cradled in his hands.

 

"No." She snapped. "Of course not!"

 

He took a long, slow sip of his coffee and raised an eyebrow.

 

"I was talking...to myself." She finished slowly, realized how silly it sounded as it left her mouth. Shaking her head, she ignored the way the corners of his mouth were curling up in an almost smirk.

 

"The vanquishing potion is done, I made like four million of them. So do you have a plan for catching your dream demon or what?"

 

"'Dream demon'?" He repeated, disdainful.

 

She winced.

 

"I also said 'your', which I kinda wanna take back now because it made it sound like this is the 'perfect demon' or something. But let's just move on..."

 

" _My '_ dream demon'." He scoffed.

 

"Chris, I said we're _moving on_...Ahem. What's the plan?"

 

Her nephew took another gulp of coffee, wincing at the probably very black taste.

 

"Which aspect of my sleep-deprived state gave you the impression that I planned anything?"

 

Paige considered.

 

"The coffee?" She offered weakly.

 

He grinned at her and it made her feel giddy, the same feeling she got when Wyatt giggled at something she did.

 

 

"Fair enough."

 

 

But the situation sobered her up quickly. She strode back to the book-stand and tapped the page again, annoyed at the bad news that was still there.

 

"Chris, according to the Book this demon isn't even corporal most of the time. He pretty much solely exists in people's dreams. I don't think scrying is going to work."

 

"What, you think I'm an idiot? I did _try_ to find this guy." He retorted. "I didn't just stay up for two days hoping he'd come find me."

 

She rolled her eyes at him.

 

 

"You could have _told_ me what you already tried." She pointed out.

 

 

Piper's son blinked weariness out of his eyes and ran a hand through his hair. He finally shrugged, conceding her point.

 

"Sorry. Not really thinking clearly." He said, tone apologetic.

 

 

"Don't worry about it, honey." She flapped a hand at him. "But we still need a plan." She began studying the paragraph again, pretending not to see him make another 'black-coffee' face at her calling him 'honey'.

 

"Maybe we should call Phoebe." She said. Because honestly, this was scaring her a little – Paige knew they didn't have much time and would feel a lot better if they had another person on the Save Chris Team.

 

Chris's eyes widened and for the first time he looked really, actually conscious.

 

"No! We can't tell Phoebe."

 

"Why not?"

 

"Because...because..." His gaze scanned the room, as if a legitimate excuse was there somewhere. "Because we can't! She'll tell Piper!"

 

Oh. He actually had a point there. The youngest Charmed One definitely did _not_ want Piper to hear about this, not as stressed out and worried as the woman already was.

 

"She won't if Piper isn't here." Paige said instead, both of them knowing full well that if Piper _did_ show up, the secret would be the first words out of Phoebe's mouth.

 

 

Chris gave her a look, desperate but on the verge of relenting. He tried one last time.

 

 

"Aren't you still on that whole 'independent' stage? You sure you don't want to do this one with just the two of us?"

 

"Hey! It is not a _stage_! I _am_ independent." She said, a bit miffed. "And...fine. But not because you tricked me into it. It's because I don't want to bother Phoebe at work."

 

The man offered a shrug; he didn't care. Unfortunately the argument seemed to leave him more exhausted than before, and he mechanically gulped down the rest of his coffee.

Unease crept into the pit of her stomach. Demons she could fight, but sleep? No one could fight that forever.

 

 _So get back to work_. She urged herself.

 

Vanquishing bottle still in the palm of her hand, she lightly drummed her nails upon the glass, wondering what to do next. The grey sludge didn't move.

How do you vanquish a demon that you can't find, that isn't tangible most of the time?

 

"Hmm."

 

 

She squinted at the bottle, something occurring to her.

 

"Why is there a vanquishing potion for him if he isn't even corporal?" She muttered.

 

 

"What?" Chris asked, snapping his head up.

 

Swiftly, she turned back to the Book and peered down at the entry again. Then she turned the page. Then things began to make sense.

 

"Chris, I think you're supposed to take this into your dream."

 

That got her a snort.

 

"You can't take stuff into dreams."Chris said, an amused expression on his face. "That's not how it works."

 

She tapped the page, beckoning him over with the other hand.

 

"Yeah, well, apparently, it is. There's another page, smart guy."

 

"What?" Suddenly he seemed all too eager to come over and observe her being right.

 

 

"Yeah. Look right here."

 

 

Almost shoving her out of the way, he crowded around the Book, squinting at the page closely through bleary eyes. She noticed that the hand that was holding his coffee was shaking. The Charmed One pursed her lips but didn't say anything.

 

"... _nigh impossible to find in the Real World, this demon can be vanquished in dreams. Its powers slowly turn everything in the victim's dreams real, which, as aforementioned, eventually leads to their death. However...the demon itself will become real, and just as its victim can be killed in their own nightmares, so can the Insomnium Demon._ "

 

Chris blinked, scowled, blinked again.

 

"Well..." He said finally. "Okay then."

 

It took every ounce of strength Paige had, but she managed not to gloat. She only smiled.

 

"Okay." Chris said again, and she couldn't help but notice there was a lack of acknowledging her _being completely right._

 

 _That's not important right now,_ she reminded herself. And then, _you can rub it in Chris's face after he's safe._ That made her feel a lot better.

 

"So theoretically," And oh, how Paige hated that word. "I can take this potion into my dreams and vanquish this guy. But what if he isn't real yet in my dreams? This paragraph seems to imply a process of dreams becoming real, I guess so the victim suffers longer? But what if he hasn't turned my dreams 100% real and consequence-filled yet? What happens then?"

 

She stared at him for a minute, thinking hard.

 

 

"Well, what happened last time?"

 

 

"What?" Chris asked.

 

"What happened the last time you fell asleep?" She clarified. "Did you wake up with an injury? Did you stub your toe in a dream and wake up with a throbbing foot? What made you believe there was a demon stalking your nightmares and you couldn't sleep again until he was vanquished?"

 

With a sigh, her nephew ran a hand through oily hair and walked over to set his coffee mug on the scrying table. She saw him eye the chair and ultimately decide to stay standing.

He fidgeted, and paced, and kept ringing his hands, but every time he opened his mouth, he shut it again.

 

"Chris..." She said, her tone warning.

 

"It's a long story." He replied weakly.

 

Narrowing her eyes at him, she said,

"Christopher Perry Halliwell. If you don't tell me everything right now I'll, I'll..." She searched her mind for a threat for a moment before grinning triumphantly. "I'll tell your mother."

 

Paige both understood, and was amused by, the horror that dawned on his face at her threat.

 

"It started two weeks ago," He began quickly. "After we vanquished that lower level demon. Turns out, he was one of the Insomnium Demon's lackeys..."

 

 

* * *

The dreams weren't any different at first. Chris wasn't an idiot – he knew that there were magical creatures out there that could access dreams. If anything had changed overnight, he would've known.

 

He would've been suspicious, would've checked it out right away.

 

The thing was, the dreams _weren't_ any different. Not for him.

 

 

On a good night, Chris managed three or four hours – on bad nights, he just poured himself a cup of coffee and stared at his charts and tomes and research until the sun came up. He didn't like what sleep brought him nowadays, specifically the dreams, so he figured why bother?

 

He could get more work done staying up all night anyway.

 

 

Still, even with telekinesis and an almost supernatural level of determination, Chris did need to sleep eventually.

 

 

He found Saturdays, or slow days where nothing magical was attacking, and let himself crash on the couch for a few hours. He told himself this was okay, because it was just a nap, and the sun was still up.

 

Every time, Chris told himself the nightmares couldn't touch him. And most times, he was just tired enough to believe himself.

 

So he let himself fall into REM sleep infrequently, and out of the few dreams he had, he remembered even fewer – and so it was all but impossible to tell that anything was different in them.

 

Once he dreamed of fighting with Wyatt, but thought nothing of the bruise that appeared next morning. It probably came from the fight with the Warlock the other day, Chris thought. Then his mind was filled with dates and deadlines and the End of the World, and the fresh bruise was completely forgotten.

 

 

 

Then he dreamed about it, about _her_.

 

 

 

He hadn't done that in many, many years. And hadn't that been a trick.

 

Instead of therapy, which was what normal people would do in a normal, not tyrant-run world, Chris had gone to witch after witch and demon after demon. He'd scoured the globe for all the right potions and spells, and he'd found a good number of them.

 

Nothing could take back that night. Some of them could've taken the memory completely but Chris – Chris needed it. He needed to know, so it wouldn't happen again once he'd gone to the Past.

 

Still, he couldn't live with that memory playing on repeat in every one of his dreams. So he'd dimmed it. He rigged up a magical alarm system that would wake him up if that nightmare started.

 

He'd messed with his sleep in ways that couldn't be healthy.

 

He didn't regret it though. Seeing Mom like that once had been enough. He never, _never_ needed to see her like that again.

 

The demon had messed up that way. He'd pushed an old, horrible dream back into Chris's head and suddenly everything had started clicking.

 

It'd been instantaneous - the idea that someone, or _thing_ was inside his head.

 

When he woke up with a slice along his arm, from a dreamed up demon attack, he knew he had to fix this.

 

 

 

He couldn't sleep again until he found out how.

 

 

 

* * *

 

Chris couldn't bring himself to say, exactly the dream that jolted him into the demon's awareness. The words physically wouldn't leave his mouth.

He left it at a 'very bad memory, one that I _don't_ think about anymore'.

 

Paige seemed to content herself with that. Which was nice. Until she informed him that they were going to kill this demon _together_ , in Chris's dream, whether he liked it or not.

And he did not like it.

 

"Paige, it's my dream. How are you going to get in?" He asked, rolling his eyes at her.

 

She squinted at him, one irritation away from full on glaring.

"I'm sure there's spell for dream-sharing in the book, grumpy. Jeez, you're _welcome_ for trying to help you."

 

Her remark sent guilt churning into his empty stomach, and he sighed, knowing she was right. He was just...tired.

 

Really, really tired.

 

She didn't deserve to be snapped at.

 

"Oh, hey, actually, I know just the spell." Paige said, and Chris blinked, because she had somehow materialized by the Book already.

 

Sure, she could actually orb (a.k.a materialize) but Chris had missed it.

Or he was so sleepy he hadn't noticed her clicky-high-heeled walk over here.

 

 _God_ , he wanted to just collapse right here on the floor, curl up on the rug, and not think about anything for the next _week_.

His entire body ached, his appetite had all but disappeared, and his eyes felt so gummy that it was disgusting.

That coffee had kept him going for maybe half an hour, but it was wearing off and with it any sort of motivation Chris had to keep standing.

 

In that sneaky, exhausted way brains do when they want sleep, he started reasoning with himself that a minute or two wouldn't hurt.

 

He was just going to shut his eyes. Just...rest. For a moment.

 

 

"Yep! Found the spell!" Paige's voice jolted him out of his daze.

 

It took strength he didn't know he had, but Chris straightened again from nearly falling asleep standing up, his head bobbing on his chest, and he rubbed at dead eyes.

 

"Good, good." He couldn't hold back a yawn though. "I don't think I can last much longer."

 

He blinked again, and his aunt was by his side. She pressed a vial of vanquishing potion into each palm, and gave him a pat on the shoulder.

 

"You can do this, Chris. Just give me a moment, and then you can go to sleep, okay?"

 

She waited until he nodded, then smiled at him.

 

"We'll beat this guy together. I promise."

 

He held her to it.

 

 

* * *

 

 

"How hard can it be to fall asleep?" Paige was asking her nephew, rhetorically.

Chris was on the old dusty couch in the attic, while Paige was on her back on an air mattress beside him.

Frankly, Paige thought she'd gotten the better end of the deal.

 

"Not hard.." Chris muttered. The man was already half-way asleep himself. It was obvious that Paige would take a lot longer to go under.

They were finally in agreement that it wasn't a good idea to let Chris go into the deadly dream alone; hence the attic sleepover and the crinkled spell in the trash they'd cast so that Paige could share her nephew's dream.

 

"Well, that's 'cause you've been up for what? Two days? You'll be out in minutes." Paige grumbled.

 

"Hmm." Chris said.

 

"I don't think I can just 'fall asleep' on command. I mean, I looked to see if we had sleeping pills, but all Piper has is NyQuill, and I _did_ take that but _man_ I'm not sleepy."

 

Chris did not respond.

 

"What if that demon kills you before I can go unconscious?" She asked, fear in her heart. "Do you know how much pressure that is?"

 

Apparently not _quite_ gone yet, Chris rubbed his eyes and murmured,

"You have to think about something else. Try...counting sheep. Reciting times tables." A yawn broke through. "Play a movie inside your head. That kinda thing."

 

Her own jaws jealous, Paige yawned along with him, and settled back down, blanket in one hand and potion in the other.

 

"Okay, okay. I can do this."

 

"You can...do..." Chris didn't finish. He was too busy snoring.

 

Despite the enormous amount of pressure on her, Paige soon found herself drifting too. Whether it was the spell or the NyQuill, it didn't matter.

 

 

Both of them were fast asleep.

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

"This is a dream." Chris told himself quietly, feeling his voice echo wrong across the room.

 

He knew this was a dream. But still...he couldn't – it felt so _real_.

 

He was standing in his family's attic, bare feet on creaky wood, birthday cake souring in his mouth, and was trembling over a woman's broken body.

He knew this was all wrong. He was too short and she was too old, too many grey hairs and Piper's hair was all brown now, he _knew_ that, it was just –

 

 

There was so much blood.

 

 

He could smell it in the air. It was sliding, slipping through his fingers, sticking between his toes. It stained his shirt, marked his face; he could hardly even tell it was her beneath all that horrible red.

"T-t-this is a dream." He whispered again, but he wasn't so sure he meant it this time. He could feel everything – and he knew, deep in his gut, that the Event wasn't something he or any demon had made up.

 

Piper dying was real – although, whether it had happened seconds ago or years ago, the truth of it was beginning to blur.

 

"This h-has to be...I c-can't...Mom? Mom?" His voice was cracking; but of course it was, he was fourteen and lost and disoriented because _Piper wasn't moving._

 

"Mom, you have to get up. M-mom, I can't do this. I _need_ you –I n-need you to make it better, j-just like you always do. Please. _Please_."

 

What Piper Halliwell couldn't fix with kisses and cookies she could always change by yelling and getting angry.

Chris understood that excessively; it was a truth that had stitched him together on particularly bad days. His mom was a superhero - she could do anything, could save him from _anything_.

She always made things better.

 

"Mom. _Please_." He hated how his voice sounded. Loathed how pathetic and lonely he sounded talking to no one in the middle of the attic.

 

Talking to nobody...

 

"Oh, God...m-m-mom? Mom?"

 

"Chris." That voice wasn't supposed to be here. That voice was dead too.

But no, Aunt Paige was here, with the tone of gentle, heartbroken love about her, and he couldn't remember ever hearing that before.

He turned, hands shaking by his sides, and the world tilted dangerously (as it always does when you turn around in a dream) but when things righted themselves, there she was.

 

She was wearing lipstick and tears.

 

He didn't recall her being so young, not when Piper was so old, wrinkles around her eyes and grey streaks running through her hair.

 

"Chris, honey, this isn't real."

 

He felt disconnected to her. Maybe he was the one that wasn't real. Maybe she was.

"I remember this." He told her seriously. "It happened. I was there."

She looked heartbroken. Funny expression, he thought; like that particular organ could do more than burst or decay, like the heart was something you could reach in and crack like old, fragile china.

 

"I'm so sorry." She said.

 

Chris thought that it made it worse that he believed her.

 

"I'm so sorry that this happened, Chris. But we can change this. You and me – we can fix _all_ of it. I swear."

"But..s-she's dead." Chris heard himself say, not his Present, twenty-three year old voice, but his cracking, young, teenager voice. "You-you can't fix dead."

 

He knew that. He _knew_ that.

 

He remembered Dad - no _Leo_ , he was _Leo_ now, because where was he _today of all days?_ \- orbing down for the first time in years, hands over a still Aunt Paige's body, and pulling back with something like regret on his face.

He remembered Leo saying softly, like he was sorry (but he wasn't) that he couldn't heal the dead.

It was the one thing Halliwell's couldn't fix or reverse or make better.

 

 

Death.

 

 

 

Suddenly there was a warm hand on his shoulder, turning him away from Mo- from the body.

Paige's eyes burned bright, through her tears.

 

"You _can_ fix this, Chris. You traveled back in time, remember? You're gonna change everything. You're gonna fix it. And we-we're gonna help."

 

That sentence pricked at him, at his memory. Little things began to trickle in again, like the fact that he should be taller than Paige, even when she was in heels, or the fact that he hadn't been fourteen for years, or that he shouldn't be in his timeline at all.

 

Chris squinted and blinked, and suddenly, he was normal height again. He was twenty-three. He'd traveled to the Past to stop Wyatt from turning evil, to save the world, to rescue his family.

 

 

And he'd been...fighting a demon. A dream demon!

 

 

"Paige...what're we..." Chris accepted her hand up off the floor, and he tried not to look at the blood staining the boards. "This is a dream, isn't it?"

It shocked him to realize that she was still crying a little. He hated seeing her cry.

 

"This was the dream, wasn't it?" She asked. "The really bad memory?"

 

He didn't want to talk about it. Wiping at his own tears, he tried to repress the last few moments, to put them back in the box he Didn't Talk About. There wasn't _time_ for this.

 

"It's - it's not going to happen this time." He pretended his voice didn't waver.

 

She gripped his hand tight in hers, so tight that it was a comfort, even though the sensation wasn't real, was all in their heads.

 

"No, it's not."

 

 

"Isn't that adorable?" A voice boomed through the attic.

 

 

Chris and Paige flinched apart, looking for the source.

 

"Look at that - aunt and nephew comforting themselves...before they die."

 

Fear pounding in his chest, Chris turned slowly to the thing he least wanted to look at in the attic - Piper's body. Of course, the voice was coming from there. Of _course_.

Slowly, her body lifted itself up and stood, like it was a puppet whose strings were slowly being tugged up, up, up.

 

Only Piper wasn't Piper anymore. By the time she was upright, it was a figure wearing a dark robe, with red eyes glaring through the darkness.

 

This was the Insomnium demon. It laughed at them.

 

 

"Quick, Chris! Throw the potion!" Paige shouted next to him.

 

She didn't have to tell him twice. Suddenly there was a lump in his pocket, the vial, like his subconscious had slid it in there the moment he remembered it, and Chris flicked it at the demon with telekinesis, so he was sure he wouldn't miss.

But he did. By the time he heard the familiar shattering of the glass bottle, they weren't in the attic anymore. They were in the street.

 

 

The demon was gone.

 

 

They were alone again.

 

 

How had he escaped so quickly?!

"Dammit!" Chris kicked at a piece of rubble nearby. "I almost had him!"

 

"Um..Chris?"

 

"How did he do that? He shouldn't be able to do that! What, was he not 'real' enough to be vanquished, or something?"

 

He kicked another piece of rubble and stubbed his toe, which made him swear again. Also, stubbed toes? They felt very real.

Very.

 

"Chris?" Paige's voice sounded funny. "Where are we, exactly?"

 

He was busy rubbing his injured foot through his shoe, and didn't pay her as much attention as he should have.

 

"Ow, ow...I don't know, looks like we're _ow_ , close to Golden Gate. _Dammit_. See, this feels real, so why isn't he?"

 

"But Chris," There was that odd, hesitant tone again. "It's all in ruins."

 

"Yeah." Chris said, wondering why she was so hung up on it. Then he realized.

She'd never seen this.

She'd never seen the world after Wyatt had gotten through with it.

 

 

Gently, he released his foot to the ground, testing weight on it before he stood up, fully, and turned to face his aunt.

The street they were on was destroyed, like so many were these days. Maybe once there'd been buildings on either side of the road, but the roofs had been blown off, the bricks left over charred and black. Some of the rubble was still on the asphalt. It was what Chris had foolishly been kicking.

 

Her San Francisco had tall buildings, skyscrapers, and busy traffic also whizzing across the Bridge.

 

This one...not so much. Wyatt had leveled most of the skyscrapers (Chris thought he hadn't wanted anyone 'over' him, even just in the literal since), leaving Chris and Paige a nice view over streets, to the blackened, crumbling Golden Gate Bridge.

 

It looked...bad, he supposed. He didn't feel it anymore, like one walking by so many homeless people that the tragedy ceased to penetrate anymore. But he was used to it.

 

Paige wasn't.

 

"What...what happened, here? What nightmare is this?" She wanted to know. She sounded breathless.

 

Chris didn't want to tell her. But he didn't have a whole lot of choice. They were inside his head, after all, and if they had any hope of getting out, she'd need to know.

 

Wow, if this hadn't already gotten very personal, than Chris would be extremely angry at the Insomnium demon.

 

"No nightmare. This - this is real too. Well not real now, but, real later. Welcome to the future." He said, trying for a smile.

 

By her horrified gaping, it did nothing to soften the blow.

"But, how did - what -" She couldn't seem to finish her question. "How did this _happen_?"  
  


"You mean the bridge or the city?"

 

"Both!" She cried.

 

Chris made sure to glance around for probes or spies, because this was his nightmare, and he knew what he feared. He knew that was coming. It was gonna seriously suck.

 

 

It might possibly kill them.

 

Maybe they had a moment, though.

 

"Well. As it turns out, mortals and witches have a lot in common. When magic was revealed - "

 

"Wait, _what_?"

 

" - they hated us for a while, until something...bigger showed up. We kinda united under our shared desire not to be ruled over. We liked democracy. So we - we fought. That's why the city is in ruins. As for the bridge? Well, Wyatt wanted to make sure we knew that he won."

 

Paige could only glare at him for a minute.

"Wyatt?" She said.

 

"Yes."

 

"Wyatt? Little baby, cute cherub infant? That Wyatt?"

 

He sighed - he shouldn't known it wouldn't compute. Just like it was hard for Chris to see tyrant Wyatt as a baby, it was difficult for her to see baby Wy as a dictator. Even if he'd told her before that Wy was gonna mess up the future.

 

Seeing was disbelieving, he supposed.

 

There'd be time to talk about it later. For now, they needed to run.

 

"Look, I've already said too much. I..." He frowned. "I'm not even sure why I told you that. Must be really tired."

 

Paige was still staring out at the smoking landscape, her eyes wide.

 

"Little Wyatt?"

 

Crap. There was a probe. There was no time left.

 

"Paige! We need to go. I think this is about to turn into another nightmare, and if my bruised foot is anything to go by, we could actually _die_ this time. For real."

 

It worked. She snapped out of it a little, peering up at him in confusion.

"Wait, what's coming?"

 

Terror made his hands tremble. He squeezed them into fists by his side. Licking his dry lips, he tried to breathe smoothly and pretend he didn't know exactly what was waiting for him.

 

 

When he looked to Aunt Paige, he knew there was fear in his eyes.

 

 

"My big brother."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviewed, fav'ed or read last time! You made my day (or my year in this case) and I send all of you many virtual hugs and puppies and chocolate.
> 
> I think I'll do a third part to this - and hey look I'm going to put Wyatt in this one after all, though he's not as little as usual - and I'll try not to post the next chapter a year from now.
> 
> Just a note - yes, Chris has told the sisters about the crappy future where Wyatt rules, but it's one thing to know and another to see. Just clearing that up!
> 
> I love you guys! Merry Christmas, happy Hanukkah, and happy holidays! I wish you much laughter, nice company, and lots of good food :D
> 
> Kokoro

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This is kind of short, but it's just getting things started. It's just going to be a few one-shots about Chris and his big (baby) brother. It takes place in Season six, with everybody (probably?) knowing who Chris Perry really is.
> 
> I think that this one will only have like, ten little drabbles. Maybe some of them will even have a plot.
> 
> Thanks for reading! :) Please comment!


End file.
